Hero
by ItalicsToBold
Summary: "Since hero and firefighter are generally synonymous, to say that he was anything to the contrary would be...the truth. Because he put out just as many fires as he started." The town's hero is also the town's enemy, guilty of arson while maintaining a facade of honor. This tale follows his daughter and Yuki as they work to unravel the mystery just in time for the ball.


**I want to start off by saying thank you so, so, SO much to The Bloody Red Queen of Angst. She was the first to see this story, and she's been encouraging me about it ever since. I thank you for your words. I thank you for the time you dedicate to leaving no stone unturned or moment unmentioned in each story of mine you read. Its your passion that inspires my passion, so THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOUUUUU!**

 **And thank you to each and every one of you that supports and read my stories. Past, present, and future. I read every single review and I am so grateful that I get to have even one soul eager to read any words I get to put together in hopes of creating something beautiful, soul-reaching, and rewarding.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Welcome to the "Hero" experience.**

 **Enjoy! ^_^**

 **~ Love, StringInRepair**

* * *

 **Hero**

My dad is a firefighter. His career branded him as an enemy of pyromaniacs and a hero to society. He was a human interest piece. Alluring with the intrigue of running straight for life-consuming, cremating flames in gear heavy enough to bring an elephant down. And since hero and firefighter are generally synonymous, to say that he was anything to the contrary would be...the truth. Because he put out just as many fires as he started. And the necklace I wore with his station number was merely for show. Because what daughter of the town's hero wouldn't parade his insignia like a family heirloom?

I wouldn't. If I had a say.

I watch my mom twist her wedding band back and forth as a medical drama droned in the background. Worrying as she always did during a dispatch. Especially one that was larger than most, mixing with gasoline from a broken pipe. It made her run a hand through her black locks until they were frizzy on top. It lead to circles overwhelming her green eyes, her breathing short and shallow while our dog laid her head in her lap to comfort her.

I sigh, knowing any minute now he would walk right through that door with his squad. Loud and drunk after hitting up the local bar for a celebratory round of drinks. Still covered in soot, ash, blood, and sweat. Singing as they parted ways. My mom would lovingly tell him he would wake the neighborhood if he kept on. And he'd pick her up, spin her around, and give her the smooch heard across the universe.

This exact scene unfolded right before my eyes as I sat at the island in the kitchen, one hand curled around my mug of coffee as I paused in taking notes for my AP exam.

"Hey, Blaze," he says, throwing an arm around me and pulling me into a bear hug. Sloshing my coffee left and right. "Why don't you get your head out of those books and come join me for another beer on the back porch?"

Yes, he really did name me Blaze unironically. And yes, he did reek of smoke and alcohol and the faintest traces of my mother's perfume.

"Dad, you know I'm not old enough to drink." Not that it matters to him. The law was just a suggestion, and he plugged his ears to not hear it.

He guffaws loud enough to shake the cabinets of our old home, his brown eyes twinkling.

"That's hilarious, girl. It really is." He slaps me hard on the back, moving to the fridge to grab his beloved brand of whiskey. "I should have known you're hot for Jack Daniels."

Um, ew.

"Is that supposed to be another one of your bad firefighter puns?" I ask, wrinkling my nose. "Because it needs work."

"You know your dad is just silly," my mom chimes in, smoothing her hair into a ponytail with a pink scrunchie. "I'm glad you're okay, hon. Are you sure you don't want to quit, say...tomorrow?"

He laughs again, kissing her smack dab in the middle of her forehead. Walking backwards towards their bedroom so that he still faced us. "Cute, cute. You should remind me to bring that one up to the guys." He pivots, taking a greedy gulp of his third drink of the night. "They'll crack up."

I push my notebook shut, knowing I won't get anything done outside of the library now that he's home for the next few days. It was already impossible when I shared a room with my noisy sister. But he was obscene while watching boxing matches on TV, which he did whenever he was off. This brings me to ask the question I always ask my mom.

"If he scares you so badly, why do you stay with him?" And there's the questions I don't ask; why stay with someone guilty of arson and disrespectful of your feelings?

And, like always, my mom sighs. Maybe it was just me, but those seemed like delicate topics. She twists her wedding band and the weight of her fears returns to the eyes that match mine. And it was like staring my own doubts and concerns and mixed feelings towards my dad in the face, because I was the spitting image of her. And I never liked what I saw or felt.

"Its...it goes beyond what you think. Its not as simple as, your dad does bad things so I should leave him. Its also not as easy as, your dad does right by us so I should stay. I love him and he loves all of us. That's what makes me be with him even though I have nightmares about the fires. Even though my job never takes my mind off it enough. Its complicated, and I can't really say anything more about it."

She pecks me on the cheek before collecting her own abandoned cup of decaf, having been too scared about my dad's call to notice it had long since gone cool, making her way to their bedroom.

I seize the opportunity to flick off the light switches and tote my own things to my room, already expecting an earful.

"Seriously, Blazed?" My bratty sister grumbles, only ever using my nickname when she was angry. Which was all the time. "Turn off the light. I have to get up early for a student council meeting."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." I shrug off her words, rooting through my purple accented dresser for a long t-shirt and some other things I'd need for where I was headed. My next door neighbor always left their window unlocked for me at night while he was awake. I would climb into bed with him and tell him about my day. Then I'd listen to his trials and tribulations of the preppy academy he attended, both of us swapping and comparing our grades and GPAs.

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine," I say, having kicked off my brown work boots as I lied beside him on my side. "I bet you I have at least one more A than you."

Yuki simply smiles, and I can tell he's thinking I'm completely naive to think I'd secure the valedictorian nom before he would. Even though we go to completely different schools in completely different universes, we both still made a race of it. Waging bets to see who would make valedictorian first.

So far...he was in the lead.

"I truly believe I have you beat," he replies, lips decorated with a smirk. "I made an A on my last three history, English, and anatomy tests."

"No fair," I whine, pressing my face against his shirt. "You were always better at linguistics than me. Why do we have to learn another language, anyway?"

"They say it helps in the workforce and traveling."

"Pah. What do they know?"

I lift my head, peeking beneath my lashes. "Besides, we both know I'll never see the world."

He tucks an arm beneath his head, the other falling around my waist. "Why is that?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, embarrassed to even have to admit it. "Not enough money...and, my family likes me to stay close by. Like, _really_ close."

"But you're going to University, aren't you?"

"Yeah." I scoff. "On a scholarship and a grant I've been awarded for being a fireman's daughter. He's a pretty big deal for his rescue of the dean's baby girl five years ago. He cashed in the favor." Cue the reason I'm on his leash. "But that means I can only go there. Its barely thirty minutes away from here."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Why? It doesn't matter..."

He tips my chin up with a hand, amethyst eyes as serious as they are pretty. "What you want matters to me. What do you want to do after high school? Where would you go if you could?"

I don't even have to think. "I would be a welder. Even though it can be dangerous." I snort at the fact I even bothered to say that. "Boldness runs in the family. At least, on my dad's side." I shake my head. "The point is, I want to have my own welding company for a while. Then I want to live out the rest of my days an oceanographer while I reap royalties and revenue from businesses and people I invest in."

His eyebrows shoot up like rockets, so many things waiting to be asked right on his lips. "Why not be an oceanographer first, then?"

"Because there's more job security in welding. And it pays really well. It makes for a nice retirement fund and gives me the experience I want and have been reading about since I was fourteen. Oceanography..." I look up at his peeling ceiling, always fascinated that he never bothered to fix it despite being able to. "Oceanography is my first and true love. And starting this fall, I'm studying it for a degree in marine biology."

"Why the ocean?" He asks, teasingly. "Why not space or teaching or firefighting?"

I roll my eyes. He knows I would never want to follow in my father's footsteps. Even though he doesn't get what I dislike so much. He knows that I would never put on the suit or ride the truck if life if they paid me. Which...they would...but that's beside the point!

"Because, when I was seven, my mom took me to the beach the first time. I waded out into the shallow end immediately. I was always drawn to the water, so I go to the beach most weekends and I joined the swim team."

"Right," he says, nodding.

"That day I went changed my world. I saw fish of so many colors I couldn't keep up with them all. I loved how they moved together like they depended on one another to keep going. And as I checked out library books and watched documentaries, I was practically drooling. Dolphins and sharks and whales—"

"—Oh my," he finishes, laughing when I push him almost halfway off his full-sized bed.

"Dork."

"I prefer the term Dreaming of Reading and Knowledge, thank you."

"So...still Dork."

He yawns, bringing his hand up to try and stifle it. "If the name fits."

"Then consider it classified."

"Who's dorky, now?"

"Still you," I throw back, smiling. "What about you? What are you into?"

"Are you hitting on me?"

I swallow.

"As if. I'm asking you the same thing you asked me, genius."

"I'm glad that you acknowledge my intelligence," he jokes, cracking one eye open.

"You're stalling," I say, throwing my leg over his. "And its my turn for answers."

He hums, clearly not able to immediately come back with something as I had with welding and studying the ocean. But then, its kind of been on my mind for years. From the past four I've known Yuki, he's never settled on just one thing he wanted to be. Even though he could be anything.

Except maybe a coach or a lunch lady. He sucked as hard at sports and giving commands as he did cooking and being openly friendly with anyone outside of me. And occasionally Haru.

"I was thinking of archaeological career options recently, actually."

 _Record scratch._

"You? Digging? Getting dirty?" I burst out laughing and its so loud that he claps both hands over my mouth, checking over his shoulder to make sure Shigure or Kyo hadn't suddenly appeared at my donkey braying.

"Blaze," he scolds, though he's trying not to laugh as well.

"I'm sorry," I say between heaving breaths. "But the thought of you digging like a kid with a shovel and pail with your easy-to-burn skin is just incredible." I calm down, wiping at my eyes. But then, I look at him with his perfectly styled hair and his unkempt clothes and I start laughing all over again.

"There's a lot more to it than excavation and dinosaurs, you realize..."

"That may be. But it still doesn't feel like you." I place my hand square on his chest, looking him head on. "This is something that only you can choose. Its you who's going to live it out. You need something that will mean something and make you feel fulfilled. Not something you do because its safe when its not what helps you sleep at night."

"You help me with that," he whispers, his delicate hand coming up to rest on mine.

I chew on my lip, wondering if he can read my thoughts. I didn't just come here to leave my dad's false legacy behind or to hide from my mom's worries. I didn't stay in Yuki's bed because of my sister's moodiness or because I was scared of the dark.

Its because I'm lonely and he's lonely. And when we put our two lonely hearts together side by side, it was as if we were never alone at all. We forget what it feels like to be lonely. Until we're apart and get withdrawals and need to forget all over again.

Thing was, that same feeling was beginning to grow between us like roots from a tree that had been there too long. And it was breaking ground and tearing up foundations.

And it was not solely because the unease about my dad's arson that I hadn't enlightened him about.

But because my heart was kicking and screaming until I finally set it free to be with Yuki's.

...

Bright and early (thankfully its a Saturday morning, and with Yuki, I never sleep better) I arrive at the computer lab of the library. Prepared to get my study on as I plop down in the lush, green chair they replaced the old ones with.

The computers were new, the furniture was new, and the people were a blend of old and new.

I smile to myself as I bring up Google, beginning to punch in the subject of my history paper when my thoughts veer. Like a car that hit an icy patch in the road and started rolling downhill towards an endless ocean.

My hands fly over the keys without much thought or effort behind it. And I look up common causes of mysterious fires, what it takes to create one, and arson cold cases that were now open to the public. I clicked on link after link until I was up to my eyeballs in the cesspool of mystery that surrounded so much of my life, and I eventually stumble on the page for local information. News bulletins of fires in progress and fires extinguished...the men within the department.

My mouse hovers over the glossy image of my father. A text box popping up detailing a brief amount of his accolades and accomplishments. His chestnut eyes are fierce and focused, unlike the warm and jovial I'm used to at home. His mouth is in a straight line, face clean shaven, hair trimmed back with military precision. And the bright red hat he let me wear once when I was five or six - back when I used to beg for a Dalmatian - is tipped low over his forehead, casting a shadow around those eagle eyes to create a haunting look. And I have to wonder if this is really his alter ego. The one that started fires in clinics, then 'rushed' to the scene in record time to clean it up. Because that man wasn't the same that got trashed and sang drinking songs before spinning his wife around and joking with his daughters. He was...someone I couldn't believe existed.

I close out of that tab, about to resign to question myself for my internet detour, when a sub header catches my eye.

 **Mayor's Clinics Up In Smoke**

I open it, my eyes rapidly taking in every word. And I collapse back in my seat like I've been kicked in the gut. My heart racing as I make the connections.

Our Mayor has a total of three clinics designed to treat victims with mental disorders, specifically PTSD. And from what I already gathered in fifty minutes, two of them mysteriously vanished in a fire that just couldn't be salvaged. Injuring many of the patients, though without fatalities.

But the thing was, two of those clinics were the same ones my dad both harmed and helped. Damaged and rescued. One was still intact, having survived the attacks on the others just two months apart.

I pull up the calendar to check the date. Then I compare it to the date of the second clinic's demise.

One month and three weeks to the day.

I thread my hands through my hair in frustration. Because I don't know what to think or do or how react to this information. All I know is that a pattern may have been established and the third clinic might be the next target. But I didn't have all the facts. I had no clue why they were being burned down or why my father was involved. And I was especially confused about the odd association to the Mayor who wasn't guilty of anything but vying for another term. Well, there _was_ that mudslinging ad, but that was besides the point. He was a lovable guy that looked so sweet you could just pinch his cheeks. But he was diplomatic when he needed to be and firm in other moments. It made no sense that he would be hit, unless...

His opponent was behind the fires.

I bite my thumb nail, feeling in over my head before I've even taken the dive.

I'm going to need a lot more help than my snooping on the internet and the conversations that have been had about dad's 'scandal.' I need more hands on deck if I want to get to the bottom of this.

Because it would be nice to stop wearing this noose around my neck with his numbers knotting it in place.

I needed Yuki so we could orchestrate plans and implement more research to be thorough and sure. And, in case I was right...someone to stake out the location of the third clinic a week from now.

I was going to expose my father's misdeeds once and for all.

...

When I arrive at Yuki's later that evening, I'm surprised to find his cousins to be nowhere in sight. I expect Shigure to be leaning against the banister and making lewd commentary about my short skirt, but he's far from seen or heard. Kyo would normally be sweating out back, shadow boxing as he imagined the air was Yuki's face. But he was also nowhere to be found.

I debate between heading up to his room the weird way—taking the stairs versus his window. But my decision is ripped out of my hands when the door to the study bangs open, and Shigure stumbles out with lipstick on the neck and crooked glasses.

I don't know whether to laugh or gawk or cringe when I see a woman with cropped brunette hair and a disheveled powder blue blazer/skirt follow him out. Her lipstick was smudged and her eyes cloudy with whatever that lead to Shigure wearing her drug store shade.

"Oh! Blaze!" Shigure yelps, ducking behind the woman blushing madly, dodging when she swats at him. "Aren't you supposed to be out with Yuki in his garden or something?"

Garden? How did I not know he had a garden? And why didn't it come up when we talked digging in far off deserts last night?

"I don't know," I counter, crossing my arms. "Aren't you supposed to be chasing deadlines and high school girls?" I pointedly tip my head towards the woman. "Looks like you at least decided to date up."

"I've gotta go," the mystery woman mutters, racing out the door at a speed that makes him trip over himself trying to catch up to her. "Wait—Mi-chan! Oh great."

He pouts, none too gently shutting the door. "Thanks a lot Blaze. Now she's gonna make me submit my manuscript on time."

"Boo-hoo, such a crime," I deadpan, shifting my weight to my other foot. "Can you point me in the direction of this secret garden? Because I'm beginning to think he's taking that story way too literally."

"Swing a left past the mailbox and make your way down the creek until you see a pathetic little sign that says _Secret Base_. You can't miss it."

I cock a brow. "Secret Base on a sign? That's the stealthiest thing I've ever heard."

No. No, it really wasn't. Was it really strategy to involve Yuki in my investigation if he dropped the ball with something so simple? Then again, he's never once told me.

"You're thinking way too hard about it," he says, tossing a hand over his shoulder as he heads for the kitchen. "Momiji did it as a practical joke, and he just left it up there. Its not really a secret when everyone knows about it now is it?"

Everyone except me. He's got some explaining to do.

"Ok, thanks," I say, distractedly before I dip out the front door, per Shigure's instructions.

I bypass their overflowing mailbox, and travel a few minutes past the creek that weaves between a secluded forest of trees. I catch sight of Yuki bent over an array of flowers. The kind they were, I couldn't tell you...but the way he was admiring them with his beautiful eyes _told me_ they were beautiful. Maybe even the most prized of the colorful choices he had to pick from within his garden.

My boots rustle the grass that brush against the very tops of my ankles, right where my shin begins. And it isn't until a split second too late that I begin to wonder what I might step in out here.

And the—

 _Squelch._

Sound rocks my world.

I look to the sky, hoping with everything in me that it wasn't a dog's little surprise underneath my favorite work boot as I tentatively, reluctantly pick up my foot to inspect it more closely.

I breathe the world's loudest sigh of relief when I see its only mud. Even though that was almost just as annoying. And I roll my shoulders back, prepared to give Yuki a piece of my mind for keeping his Secret Base from me when I stop. When did he move? He wasn't in his original spot by the flowers.

"Did he just—did he get the drop on me?" I stick my lip out, folding my arms. " _Yuki_."

"Yes, Miss Tatsuyo," he says from right behind me, making all the hairs on my neck stand on end.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I screech, spinning on my muddy heel to face him when he breaks off into hysterics. "First you keep all this a secret, then you almost give me a myocardial infarction. Wow." I fake clap. "Friend of the year. We should throw you a party."

He clears his throat, having the decency to cut his laughter short. "How do I go from keeping secrets to heart attacks?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should throw it in a memoir or something. Write a book about it. A how-to guide on giving your best friend the fright that scares years off her life on top of withholding a piece of yourself that's clearly important to you."

"Would there be talk shows involved?"

I give him a glare so heinous he covers his eyes. "Please, I have to go to sleep at night."

"How ironic," I say, mockingly, "I thought I helped with that."

He laughs, pulling me into a hug. "You're usually a lot more easygoing about things. Why are you so stressed?"

I bury my nose into his chest, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. And for a moment, I just appreciate this for what it is. Regardless of the fact that I really was stressed out. And terrified. And excited.

"Its not exactly something I can discuss in the open," I say, cryptic as ever. "But I don't want to pull you away from your garden. You look busy."

He pulls back to look at me, tucking a strand of my nightshade hair behind my ear. "Nonsense. I would love for you to help me. Its lonely without..." he pauses, collecting his thoughts. "Without Tohru."

"Tohru?" I tilt my head. "Why does that name ring a bell?"

"She's the girl that baked you those muffins when she found out you got your appendix out. And showed up again with popsicles when you got your tonsils and adenoids removed."

"Ohhh," I muse, smiling at the thought. "I was wondering what happened to her. We weren't anything more than acquaintances, but I know she used to live with you guys."

"That's because you're introverted and you didn't talk to her the first two years," he says, his hand cupping the small of my back as he guides me to a patch of pumpkins.

"You're one to talk. Neither of us are comfortable getting to know anyone outside of us."

Especially when everyone wanted to talk to me to meet my dad and I had to swallow the bitter pill that was his truth.

"I never said otherwise." He drops to one knee, slipping his worn two-toned brown gloves back on. Silently asking that I do the same. "What do you know about gardening as of right now?"

"Uh...that they need sun and water. And that we emit carbon dioxide that plants need in exchange that they provide us with oxygen. Cellular oxidation and things of the like." I shrug. "That's pretty much it."

He chuckles softly, shoving what looks like a miniature shovel into the dirt, digging around a massive bright pumpkin. "That's merely the science behind it. But there's an art to it. It requires strategy, finesse, and patience. Kind of like chess."

We both share a knowing look at that comparison. Because it was our favorite thing to do together beside lay in bed and talk about everything. Chess was like our mall crawl or a trip to the movies for normal people. Though if I'm being honest, we loved The Hobbit, The Lord of The Rings, Star Wars, and Star Trek just as much as the next guy.

But chess...that was where we were our best selves.

I watch as he transfers the pumpkin into a large basket, dusting his gloves together to rid it of dirt, before moving to the next one. "So...what am I supposed to do?"

"The first thing I need help with is deciding on what crop - that's in season - should be planted next. Then I'll teach you what to do after that."

"No can do."

He glances at me in confusion, before proceeding to pack dirt and harvest. "Why not?"

"I have no clue what's in season." I sit cross-legged, resting my elbow on my thigh and my chin in my hand. "Except Pumpkins are clearly October veggies."

"Actually, it can be ready as early as August at times. Though September and October are the most common months to reap."

"See," I say, waving my other hand. "Case in point."

He lifts the last pumpkin into his basket of six others, before he slips his gloved hand in mine. Helping me to my feet to lead me to an empty plot of soil. "That's what I mean when I say that I'll teach you, Blaze. But I still need a second opinion for what to choose."

"Alright, I'll give it a whirl." I plant my hands on my hips as he rifles through his bag of seeds. "Read em' off."

"I'm torn between vegetables and herbs. While I appreciate flowers, I don't really see a need for them. I usually gather herbs and vegetables for dinner. And the flowers are for..." he trails off again, and it makes me wonder if its about Tohru. Because he's wearing that same devastated expression.

"Whatever happened to Tohru, anyway?" I ask, resting my head on his shoulder.

He sighs, deflated and defeated and every depressing 'd' there was. "She's the reason I haven't told you about this garden. She and I...would work on it. Together. And now that she's studying abroad in Australia, I feel lonely mentioning it." He closes his eyes. "Mentioning her."

I say what I know I shouldn't say. And I wish I can kick myself for it over and over until my bum is black and blue. But there's a curiosity that makes my feelings thirst for the answer. Ask the question.

"Do you like her?"

He startles at this, eyes as big as spaceships. "In what way?"

Here's my chance to back out.

To change topics back to what he is going to be planting and how to weed and—

"Do you _like_ her like her? Not like how you like me, but...with romantic feelings?"

He looks from me to his seeds to the dirt as if he doesn't know how to answer that. It should be easy considering you would know one way or another. Romantic or platonic. He knew how he felt about me, and he's known her just as long as he's known me.

"I...Blaze, its—" he scowls, frustrated. "What makes you assume my feelings towards you or anyone else?"

He removes one glove to run a hand over his forehead, not the lighthearted Yuki that had spooked me out of nowhere. And made me laugh at it. This was the heavy, serious one that made my insides pool with regret for making him this way. The moody version he'd been before I got to know him.

"I thought that...well, we're best friends."

"We are..." he blows out a breath, before sorting through the seeds again. "Never mind. Have you picked something, yet?"

I know this means we're done talking about it because he only ever drops the discussion if its stressing him out or he's afraid of where it might lead. So I tell him I settled on the onions and table the other conversation for later. Maybe never. Instead we focus on finishing up so we could talk about my pending investigation of the fires.

...

Later that evening, we both eat platefuls of spaghetti in silence. Its a shame because its good and it deserves better than this awkwardness that was so unlike us.

I twirl a forkful, shoving it into my mouth and practically floating out of my body as the flavors dance on my tongue. Between the garlic salt, cheese, and butter...I felt like I had just played the lottery and picked all the right numbers. It was sensational.

"Who made this?" I ask between bites, scooping up more than can possibly fit in my mouth at once. "This is almost Tohru quality."

I realize that I shouldn't have said that. She was the elephant in the room, the weed in the garden that refused to budge that we pretended not to notice. But the thought was too slippery to catch in time.

"It is, isn't it?" He moves it around, having only a nibble here a nibble there. "We hired a personal chef to oversee our meals around the clock until she gets back."

"When is that?"

"January. She's only doing the rest of the semester and then she's heading back for prom and graduation. She doesn't want to miss out on any third year activities."

"Especially the pep rallies," I joke, nudging him with my elbow. "How do you feel about prom?"

He looks up at me seriously, his gaze caught up in mine. "How do you feel?"

I shrug, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. I setting the plate beside me on his bed as I think about it. "I don't love it or hate it. I have Fireman's Ball that night which is like a Military Ball. Its the norm to bring a date, but the ceremony and dancing are the most important."

This seems to pique his interest instantly. "What does that entail?"

I twirl my hair around my finger, only now realizing that I've never had to explain it to an outsider before. "We honor the Fireman or woman of the year that goes above and beyond the call of duty. Each person lights a candle to carry to the bowl of flames to honor their bravery and courage. We toast and say a prayer for the upcoming year. And then... we eat, dance, and the rest is history."

He leans over me to set his plate on the nightstand and my breath hitches. Overwhelmed by his presence and his _scent_. Oh his scent...how had I not noticed it before? It was earthy and floral - undoubtedly his garden was to thank for that - but it was even more endearing than his body wash when I laid beside him at night. Like the idea that he could be rugged was madly attractive to me.

"The Fireman's Ball sounds more interesting than the Prom, if I'm to be honest." He places his hands behind him, looking at me with a tilt to his head. "You said there was something you wanted to talk about in private. Was that it?"

I shake my head, unable to sit still now that he had to go and bring _that_ up. Especially when I was afraid my dad would be the man being honored that night if I didn't do something to stop it. I almost forgot all about it when I began imagining what it would be like to go to the ball with him instead.

"You're scaring me..." he trails off, causing me to look up at him in surprise. His expression overcome with concern.

I release a quick breath and turn so that I faced him all the way, waiting until he followed suit.

"Yuki...I'm going to tell you something that you have to promise you won't tell a single soul. I'm serious."

"Of course, Blaze. I would never betray your trust."

I wanted to believe him. But my dad's own betrayal made that so much harder for me. And it made me so mad that I was finding it hard to trust, now.

But its in that anger that I find my resolve.

"You know what? I think this conversation is best had over a game of chess." Before he can say anything, I jump up and grab the box of chess pieces and board from his stubby bookshelf. Bringing it back to the bed to set up between us.

"White or black?" He asks, and I know he's wondering if my strategy is in being first or second.

"Black," I say. "If you were an adversary and nothing more, I would go with the opposite of your choice. But since you're not...black it is."

He nods. "So you want to watch me and then make your decisions. Interesting."

He was right, but it also extended to every day with him. I would observe him, formulate a plan, and then make a move one way or another. You had to toe the line when only you knew about your feelings and you wanted to keep it that way.

He studies the board, predicting my next move set with what he knew about me. I was chill enough to take it easy, maybe allow some pawns to get captured to make it seem like I was throwing the game. To hustle people into thinking I liked it, but not enough to fight. But Yuki knew better. He knew that I would do exactly that to any other opponent. What he didn't know is that I played with more focus when it was him over anyone else. When it was him, I played for keeps.

He picks up a pawn to move to D4, going with a classic opening move.

I ponder my turn, beginning to open up a pathway between my knight and bishop to do their thing. "You know how my dad is the talk of the town? How he's _the man_?"

Yuki pauses, looking up at me. Before forcing his gaze back to the board to take my rook in one fell swoop. "I suppose. I would see papers about it whenever I passed a newsstand, but I didn't really pay much attention to it."

"That's odd." I move another pawn forward. "Considering its the dad of your best friend, its kind of weird you never took notice."

He laughs. "Its not that weird. You never invite me over or talk about them beyond how they're doing. It would be invasive of me to look into something that you don't want me knowing about. I was trying to be respectful of your wishes. In addition, I barely knew what your dad did, let alone your mom."

"Oh her? She's a dental hygienist." I tuck my foot underneath me, frisking his bishop from him. "If you ask me, her job is better because its ambiguous, which I definitely like."

"How so? Its a good thing to put out fires and to work on teeth. I wouldn't exactly call either one neutral."

"Sometimes it might seem like someone has good intentions, but—oh good grief! I need to stop beating around the bush." I push away from the chess board as if physically too sick to look at it. Which makes sense because my stomach is doing origami. "Yuki, my dad is trouble. He's seriously dangerous."

He folds his hands together over his lips, forehead wrinkled in concentration. "Dangerous as in unstable? Or dangerous like—"

"I mean he's an arsonist," I spit out, wanting to have the confession done with. "He's purposely lighting buildings on fire and getting away with it. I intend to set out to prove it."

Yuki swallows, his face slightly more pale than before. "Why would he do something like that? That's a federal offense if people get hurt or it damages natural resources. He could go to prison for that, Blaze. Especially if there are fatalities involved."

"I know," I say, biting my thumb. "That's all the more reason to have evidence. One, a court won't take us serious without it. And neither will any media outlet that I want to release this to. Two, my mom told me about it, but for all I know...it could just be speculation. Or a mistake. Either way, I have to prove it."

"No, Blaze." He shakes his head, moving the chess board so that there was nothing separating us. He scoots closer, eyes level with mine. "I don't want anything to happen to you. Say you do catch him in the act. What if you get caught too, and brought in as an accomplice? Or you get too close and breathe in too much smoke? Get burned? Or what if your dad sees you and calls the whole thing off before it can happen? What if there are others working with him or dirty people involved that will do whatever it takes to keep you silent?"

"I don't know," I answer pathetically, having not even considered those variables. Not even a little bit. "But I also refuse to live my father's lie. And I'm sick thinking of how many people could and have been hurt, or might die because I'm scared about all that could happen to me." I place my hand on his shoulder, unwavering in my decision. "I'm not that selfish. And a week from now, I will be camped right outside what I think is the next target to get what I need. And if it takes me outing myself to put a stop to it or calling the police, then so be it. I may be no hero, but I'm also no coward."

He covers my hand on his shoulder with his, the beginnings of a callous caused by his gardening upkeep rough against my skin. And somehow comforting in its strength and its familiarity.

"You know I will help you in any way you need it. The only thing I can't do is let you do this on your own."

I grin, throwing my arms around his neck with force strong enough that we both fall back against his pillows.

"Thank you! You're the best, Yuki-bun!"

He sighs, moving a wild strand of hair out of my eyes. "First you put your life on the line and then you call me that silly sobriquet. I'm beginning to suspect that you're trying to off me early."

I gasp, pulling back to look at him. "You weren't supposed to find out until after you drank the poison!"

We both stare at each other in silence for a few beats. Neither of us moving or daring to breathe. I'm the one to break first, dropping my head to his chest as I started laughing. And it only gets louder when he joins in, my heart easier and lighter to carry when I heard his laughter.

He shakes his head with a smile still firmly fixed to his lips. "You do realize we have work to do before next week, right?"

I roll my eyes. "What do you take me for? I got a jumpstart on researching what they think caused the two fires at the clinic. And I also unearthed a list of victims from the previous two fires to interview in person. I'll start off questioning the victims to delve into their experiences, then maybe even some first responders that were on site if necessary."

"And me?"

"And you...can do the stakeout with me and gain whatever intel you can."

"Can't we also do the interviews together? I'd rather not go into any of this blind, and it seems smarter than divide and conquer."

I smooth my palms over my jeans, anxious thoughts passing through one ear and his rationality out the other. _This_ was beginning to get real.

"Yeah...I mean..." I jump to my feet and begin pacing, chewing on my thumbnail. "Yeah, we should talk to them together. That way we keep our efforts organized and we up our chances of getting useful answers. Especially if its an old hag you can charm or someone desperate I can flirt with, I think we'd form an okay team."

His eyebrows furrow. "I don't know if I'm more offended at the fact you believe I could only sweet talk an older woman...or the fact you're selling yourself short and offering yourself up to someone undeserving."

I falter in my steps, turning towards him. "And who would be deserving?" I shake my head the moment he opens his mouth, talking over him, "Never mind. Don't answer that. I need to focus on the task at hand." I fish my phone out of my pocket and press the lock button, the time reading 8:03 back at me.

"Crap, I need to get home and get some sleep if we're going to start bright and early. Unfortunately, I won't be able to sleep with y— I mean, stay with you tonight." I hurriedly scoop up my things and make for the door, hiding my blush. "We'd only be up talking instead of sleeping and then we'd both be exhausted."

He pulls his door open for me, one hand landing on the small of my back. "I suppose you have a point. Though know that you're worth a night of sleep deprivation." He smiles, his hand relocating to the railing as he trails behind me. "Several nights, actually."

 _He doesn't truly gasp what he's saying. That's why he's saying it. He just means I'm fun to talk to...nothing more_.

I glare down at the center of my blouse where my heart should be. _I'm talking to you in there. Calm your face or whatever._

"See you tomorrow?" He asks, holding open the front door for me as well. "You're not going to be too occupied trying to make a last ditch effort at the valedictorian nomination?"

I scoff, folding my arms. "I could secure it in my sleep. I have a paper due on Tuesday and I finished it three days ago and the extra credit yesterday." I poke him playfully in the chest, my smile transforming into a smirk. "Don't worry about me, Yuki. I'm doing just fine over here. You should really be more careful, though. A fly on the wall told me you only got a 94 on the last quiz."

With my parting comeback, I race out the door and cut across the lawn to our front porch. My heart filled with a rush like lava.

That was _too_ close.

...

Yuki and I canvas the nearby _Lonely Hearts Den_ for the first person we were interviewing about their experience with the fire. I was not what you would consider a regular, but I knew the atmosphere to be out of the norm for them. The room was carpeted in a printed out photo of the moon, decked with craters that stationed circular tables decorated in black cloth, shimmering under the UV lights.

Instead of happily sitting at one of the tables with customers dressed up like Aliens and Martians, the woman we were looking for was nursing an umbrella drink at the not-so-festive bar, lips enclosed around a straw. Her bare leg jostled the counter as it bounced; her form slouched as if to hide herself from anyone enjoying themselves. I pull up a stool beside her and flag down the bartender for a water, acting like I belonged even though we stuck out like a sore thumb, having not gotten the memo about the theme beforehand. Yuki wasn't nearly as smooth and he nearly tripped his way over to the stool on the woman's other side. He flailed in his attempts to recover and act natural, despite the attention he attracted from others and the wide eyed way she stared at him.

You can't take him anywhere but a library.

"Hi," I chirp, pouring a southern affection into my voice. "I like your space buns." I gesture at them and she self-consciously runs her hands over them.

"Thanks…" her gaze drops back to the loaded Tequila Sunrise, her glittery blue eyeshadow twinkling as if truly otherworldly.

"I'm new in town and was curious about a thing or two I caught wind of."

Yuki's lips part in surprise at my act, so I lean back to mouth directions over the woman's shoulder in what I hoped was discreet.

'Just play along.'

He bobs his head silently, and I refocus my attention on the stranger.

"I'm not big on gossip," she mutters under her breath at a volume I barely catch. "I save that for the burn books."

"Burn books...?" I clear my throat, trying for nonchalance as if this is just a thing people talk about. Like how seasonably cold it is and how the sky might be falling while the fat lady sings. "You light books _on fire_?"

Was that what this entire case rested on? But why? What was so valuable that they felt the need to destroy all the evidence?

She snorts and it makes her cough as her drink goes down the wrong pipe, smashing her hand against her chest as she fought tears through her coughing fit. I practically stand on my stool to try and wave for the bartender's attention, planning to order a water when the woman stops me.

"I'm fine. I'm a gal that loves her potions a little too much is all." She swipes her hand over her eyes, one of her falsies coming off in the process.

"Um…Miss-"

"I know, you want to know what a Burn Book is."

Actually, I was going to tell her about her missing false eyelashes, but I wasn't going to stop her from continuing.

She looks left, looks right. "A burn book is a place you're free to write about anyone and anything. It's like a public diary that only certain people get to read. Anything goes and you can talk about everyone all day if you like."

I purse my lips to the side, mulling this over. "I see...and where exactly would I find this burn book?" I pause for half a beat, wondering if I'm coming off too eager. I sprinkle some pep into my voice and put on my best pageant smile. "I would just _love_ to get the 411 on you townsfolk. There's no way to make a friend faster!"

"Or an enemy," she retorts. "This book is sacred to the gossip-mongers of this area. We don't just give out that kind of information to outsiders...no offense."

"None taken," I say, making sure my smile didn't falter. "I just figured an insider such as yourself would have some intel on the fires that have been happening lately."

The woman freezes as if paralyzed, face ashen as if she held all her breaths until there were none left to use. She stares unblinkingly down at her drink. That's when I realize I must be getting warmer for the first time this week.

"F-fires?" She hugs her body protectively, and I don't miss the flash of reddened blistery skin when her sleeve slips. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"But Miss—"

"I said I don't!" She shrieks, shooting out of her stool so fast it crashes to the floor behind her. Tearing through the ethereal music and rowdy crowd with the force of a rocket. "I told you that I don't know nothing about gossip, now leave me alone and stop sticking your nose where it don't belong!" She slings her purse over her shoulder and storms out of the den, sandals angrily slapping against the floor in her hurried exit.

I let out a resigned sigh and slump in my seat, barely managing a 'thank you' when the bartender finally hands me my glass of water, condensation skating down the sides.

"Now what?" Yuki asks, claiming her abandoned seat so that he could speak to me without anyone eavesdropping. "We locate the burn book? We haven't the slightest clue of where to look for it."

I shake my head. "Its not our only lead. Maybe one of the other two will be more cooperative with the right kind of persuading. At the very least, we might be able to get them to open up about their run ins with the fire."

He nods slowly, though I can tell he's just as frustrated as I am. "I suppose this night hasn't been completely unproductive. We did gain some insight we didn't have before. Maybe this burn book will offer something that coincides with the case."

"Yeah…here's hoping." I toss down a handful of coins to pay for my water, plus tip, before standing and leading Yuki out of the den into the dark of night. We decide it best to fall back and regroup tomorrow to pursue the next lead.

...

When the sun has barely crowned the sky, I hop into the shower in hopes having some me time before Day 2 of investigations. Today we were going to be meeting with a man that had been victimized by the first clinic fire. It was a delicate thing to talk to him about the fire with his preexisting anxiety for fear of setting him back even further. But word on the street is that he's itching to talk...so the price on his head is hiking up the longer he's out there, alive, and primed to squeal.

Good for us, bad for him.

I turn the shower on to the middlemost setting and shed my bright red bathrobe, stepping under the shower spray after waiting long enough to warm up. Only when I do, it's not warm.

Its freezing!

"Ah!" I yelp, jumping away from the water and shivering as goosebumps prickle my skin. You best believe it isn't long before realization of what happened smacks me square in the face. I groan in exasperation.

"Who used up all the hot water?!" I holler at the top of my lungs, answered in choruses of 'not me' and 'shut up!'

I grit my teeth and grudgingly make do with what I've got, soaping up and staying as far away from the water as I can get until the very end. And I rinse off all at once.

My entire body protests in shock as if I were plunged into Arctic waters at Christmas time, painfully dousing my entire being in waters colder than the ice caps that sunk the Titanic.

I can already tell this day is going to be miserable.

...

Yuki and I make our way down a wooden dock that leads to row after row of houseboat. Several clients with different dreams of living out on the water. For peace, for solitude, for escape...

For warm showers...

"And then no one was bold enough to come forward," I exclaim, recounting my morning horror story to Yuki. "Can you believe them? I'm almost 150% positive it was my brat sister. Even dad isn't that cruel."

Yuki just shakes his head with an amused smile on his lips. "It sounds entertaining, I'm sorry I missed it."

Oh its like that, huh?

I stop in front of him, looking him in the eyes. "I'm sorry you missed me in the shower, too. But there's always next time! I'm sure your imagination will hold keep you."

He blushes, just as I wanted, to the point his entire face is as red as a cherry tomato. And it splotches from his neck to what's visible of his chest.

"Let's go find his boat," he says, voice thin as a violin string.

"Uh-huh." I smirk, practically skipping off towards the houseboats. "That's what I thought."

We step onto a navy blue and white vessel, connected to a two-story house that proudly reaches for the sky as it bobs on the water. When we make it up the two wooden steps that creak beneath our combined weight, Yuki leans around me to give a couple of polite knocks that merit no answer. I laugh at this, stepping up to bring my fist down in several harsh thumps to bash against his door.

Maybe the pounding will make him realize how urgent this is.

The door cranks open a crack, and a man with a faux hawk pokes his head out to take us in, probably wishing he'd popped for a peephole. His entire tall figure fills the frame when he opens it all the way, drawing the eyes to his hands covered in finger wraps. From the reports, I'd heard of dismemberment and disfiguration, but I hadn't expected to see it.

"Who are you?" He demands, a tremble to his deep voice as his eyes darted between us.

I point at myself, "I'm Luna," then Yuki, "And this is Po. We were told that you gave houseboat tours."

Yuki catches on quickly this time, his arm finding its way around my waist. "Uh, yes. My fiancée and I just got engaged and we wanted to celebrate with a day on the water."

The man scratches his head, frowning slightly. "I don't give tours."

"Oh," I sigh, feigning disappointment. "And we had our hearts set on going, too." I hold up the tote bag that I stuffed with a beach towel and sunscreen for a convincing prop. "I guess we'll just have to spend the day at home watching old sitcoms, hon."

Yuki bows his head, trying not to laugh. "I guess you're right Bla—Luna. Though I suppose we can at least watch a documentary of the ocean. Its probably as close as we'll get."

"Ok!" The man cuts in, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I can help you out this once."

"Really?" I brighten, swinging Yuki and my joined hands. "It wouldn't be too inconvenient?"

"Not at all," he says, shrugging his big shoulders. "I'm a closet romantic. I have a soft spot for couples."

"Well, thank you sir," Yuki offers, tipping his head in respect. "I don't suppose we could board your vessel now?"

The man nods. "All aboard! Or is that what they say on trains...?"

Yuki and I hurry in after the lumbering man as he brings in the anchor and kicks on the engine, directing us to shut the door and find a seat somewhere in his quaint home. He'd be with us shortly with sandwiches and refreshments as soon as he switched to autopilot.

I could see Yuki was fascinated by all the knick-knacks and ornaments that were strewn throughout the boat. It looked to be composed of one bedroom, a connected bathroom, and the main room we now stood in. The helm was merely divided by a wall and a split level room that stepped down.

I wanted to explore as I really did adore the idea of being out on the water. It was something I'd always wanted to do. But sitting with the knowledge of the fires happening a month apart from each other was something I couldn't allow myself to forget. It was a burden that weighed me down like stale cookies, especially considering there was less time before the next projected strike.

I find a seat on a rubbery red cushion in the center of the room, and Yuki lowers himself beside me, eyes continuing in their scan of the room. I was certain the burn book wasn't here. But I was unsure as to whether this man might know where to find it.

When he switches controls, as promised, he lugs over a tray of tea and triangle sandwiches with the crust cut off. He handles it as deftly as if he had been born without all his fingers, when he'd only been without for a month.

It was truly suspicious.

His entire weight sinks into a desk chair that he rolls over, causing it to hiss with the air squeezing out from beneath him. I lean over and pluck a Turkey and Swiss sandwich chock full of lettuce and tomatoes, taking a bite.

"Is it good?" The man asks, wringing his hands.

I nod quickly. "Very. I just feel bad that you went to the trouble of preparing us something."

"The pleasure is all mine," he says through a nervous smile, rocking forward slightly. "Especially with how long I've had the cheese and tomatoes."

I blanch at this new information, and I shoot an urgent look at Yuki for an assist.

He jumps up, pointing out the bay window. "Is that—is that a rare genus Larus?"

Right on cue, the man whips around just in time for me to spit out the sandwich into a napkin. "Where?"

"Oh, my apologies," Yuki stutters sheepishly, resuming his seat. "It must have been a common one after all. I suppose my hopes were far too high."

"That is terrible," he agrees, folding his hands together. "I'm a man of many tastes. But bird-watching is my number one love."

Yuki blinks in surprise at this. Growing confident in this new topic of conversation, he straightens. "Its one of my passions, too. Are you familiar with the Siberian Crane?"

The man guffaws, his brown eyes glowing bright. "Anyone worth their salt has tried to get a glimpse of that one at least once in their life. I've traveled all the way to Kyushu just to see a White Nape."

Yuki's breath catches. "Did you see her?"

"Did I see her?" He scoots his chair back, rolling until he's at his hutch that sits beside his computer desk and retrieves a photo frame. Only to roll back towards us to proudly display his find to Yuki. "She's a beaut, isn't she? This is the one and only rare aves chordata I've managed to see with my naked eye and capture on film."

"Wow..." Yuki marvels at the still of an elegant bird perched on a wooden post in the middle of a grassland, his hands clutching the golden picture frame with the vise of a curator. "She _is_ gorgeous."

"Ahem," I cut in, trying to smile politely. "Uh...hon? I'm glad you two are enjoying your talk of birds and things...but lets not forget what we wished to ask him."

Yuki cants his head in confusion at first, before his eyes light up in remembrance of our mission.

He leans forward to return the picture to its rightful owner, before sitting back with reclaimed focus.

"Speaking of...I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something," Yuki says, smoothly applying the breaks to their bird fest. "If that's alright with you?"

"Anything for a fellow birder. What do ya need?"

One of Yuki's hands comes down to rest on my knee, and I try not to react to the feel of fingertips as they brush against my bare leg. "My lady and I were curious about something, and we were told you might have insight."

"Do you remember the clinic you received treatment from this year?" I jump in. "The one that burned up?"

He freezes up in a similar way the woman at the bar did. Like he forgets himself and what brought life to his emptying eyes. The passions for airborne creatures and scavenging the open seas. Its those two questions that seem to age him two years, as if he were reliving it all over again.

"H-how do you know about that? Did someone snitch?"

"No," Yuki corrects. "It was in the news. We just wanted to check in to see how you were faring in the aftermath."

"I'm certain it was a scarring thing to go through," I add, trying to ease up on our direct approach.

He looks between the two of us with an unreadable expression. Though if I were to venture a guess, he was probably questioning whether we could be trusted with whatever he had. But since he's a man ready to talk to anyone willing to listen about this subject, he says-

"Alright." He snatches a pen and paper off his nearby desk, scrawling information at breakneck speed before handing it to Yuki. "She can help you if you're really curious. Neither of us are liable if you find yourselves too deep and you start drowning." He scowls sympathetically at my 'fiancée'. "Even for a fellow bird watcher such as yourself, I can't help you if you end up sleeping with the fishes at the end of this. This is the stuff camp-stories are made of."

"Thank you for your concern...but, we're already too deep in this to get out," I say, accepting the paper from Yuki before pocketing it. "Say...you wouldn't happen to have heard a whisper or two about a burn book have you?"

He leans back in his seat, folding his arms. "My ex was one of the 'officiators' as she liked to call it. They always changed the hiding place for it month by month, so it was hard to keep up with it even when we were together. Now-"

"Its downright impossible," I glumly finish for him, trying not to get too upset at this. "You don't have any idea of where she might stash this thing?"

"Like a vault or under a loose tile?"

We both look at Yuki, his gaze moving between us in confusion. "What? Isn't that a common place for things to be kept in secret?"

"Yeah, in a Hollywood Mystery, maybe," I retort, causing our hospitable host to snicker at our banter.

"You two are just a hoot..." his face falls in reminiscence, his eyes far away. "You remind me of me and her. Tell you what..." he stands, waiting for something. And it takes a few moments for us to realize he wants us to stand too. Maybe he was letting us off here.

"I'll send word to her that I give you two my approval for the password. We may be split but we're on fairly good terms. She trusts me enough to trust the people I do. I will pass the location along to you so that you can find it. But you have to move quickly. The month will be up in a matter of days, and that will be when they make the switch."

I fight back a smile, giddy at the prospect this wasn't a total bust. We had another person to search out, we had a lead on the burn book, and the stakeout was edging closer. We would be able to shut this case soon.

"Oh, and one more thing," he says, his tone foreboding as he looms behind us when we step out and into the sunlight. Being embraced by the smells of sea-salt and the rush of the breeze. "When you find this book, you must contribute something. If you have anything to say about a person, an event, a secret about yourself...you must offer it."

"May I ask what will happen if we refuse?" Yuki questions, swallowing.

The man scoffs, his hands gripping the top of his threshold. "Let's just say if you find out, you won't be able to tell anyone else what happened. And we'll leave it at that."

As if that made for a warm goodbye, he ducks back inside his house with one last congratulations on our fake engagement before shutting the door behind him.

Yuki and I start our trek back down the boardwalk, basking in the warmth of the sun even as we weighed everything.

"So this person he told us to meet," he starts, his forehead creased in concern. "It claims she's from a district in one of the rich neighborhoods we not dare enter."

I give him a funny look. "You mean the one I don't dare enter. You'd fit right in with that area. The seedy places like the den we hit yesterday are much more my speed. This should be a cake walk for you."

He frowns, but chooses to ignore my comment. "And the burn book? He said he would secure a password and a location for us. Does he have our contact information?"

"Of course, Yuki-bun." I loop my arm through his and rest my head on his shoulder as we walk. "I slipped him my cell number before we left. I assume he'll call me when he gets the tip. But in the meantime, we need to find out what this Rouge lady is all about."

"And how do you propose we go about this? Do we just march right up to her _gated_ estates and demand we bypass security?"

"That's exactly how," I declare, already knowing he thinks I've lost it without looking. "We'll pose as her rich clients and get her to talk once we're in."

He shakes his head, sighing. "I'm anticipating hearing those astronomical logistics. When do we start?"

I move my arm around his shoulders, yanking him towards me to give him the worst noogie imaginable, before racing up the path.

More swiftly than before, I might add.

"Blaze," he warns, amethyst an even deeper purple.

"Tomorrow," I call back in answer to his previous question. "Just in case we get the call about the book early."

Before he can prod me for more details or get me back for messing up his hair, I take off in a run down the docks.

...

We do get that call - or rather, I get that call - at five in the morning. Since we're now officially into the swing of our Fall break, I stayed over at Yuki's. I hoped we could both listen over speaker if he actually reached out, then we could look into it together. Well...after I hid from him for an hour in case he still sought vindication.

"Its located in the Hashimoto district, 356, tucked between two loose bricks in a fireplace."

Yuki smirks at this, his theory of the hiding place being under a loose something or other now valid.

"The password to enter the building is _Heart Eyes_ ," he says, voice as gruff as ever mentioning such a frilly phrase. "Godspeed."

"Thank you," I say, ending the call before he can. I sit up from where I was stretched across Yuki's bed, my feet dangling over the floor. "Since today's Tuesday, our stakeout is taking place Saturday night...we don't really have much time to look into this burn book."

"So I suppose we should head there first, then see Rouge...have you given any thought as to what you're planning to add to the book?"

I shrug, rummaging through my bag for some ChapStick. "We could always make something up. No one would be the wiser."

"True," he concedes, standing to stretch. "However, we would both know. And, it be hypocritical for us to lie when we're trying to catch your father in his."

I wince, stung by the lash of his words. "You make a...fair point." I groan. "Ugh. Whatever...I'll just put down the embarrassing incident of my first day in high school and call it a day."

His eyebrows knit together. "This is the first I'm hearing of this." He lands back beside me, offering up his full attention. "What happened?"

I pout, folding my arms. "They kicked things off early that year. Our first dance was coming up to welcome us back to school, so the first week...there were candy grams."

"Ah," he says, it finally clicking together in his memory. "We vetoed that when I became class president. What happened?"

I grumble under my breath, though I'm positive he can hear every word. "I stupidly bought one for an upperclassman, and when he got his asking him to the dance...he laughed in my face."

Yuki's eyes bulge out. And if I weren't still hurting over the past rejection, I would find his expression hysterical.

"How could anyone turn you down? Surely, he at least had the decency to confront you about it politely."

I scoff, a bitter taste in my mouth. "Yeah right. He was a shallow cretin running high on testosterone. I was a 'lowly' first year with coke bottle glasses and no fashion sense, sitting alone at lunch by the trashcans. You do the math."

"What a miscreant," Yuki hisses under his breath, and I'm taken aback at his word choice. He usually only spoke harshly when talking about Kyo.

"What about you? What are you putting down?"

He searches his thoughts for an answer before shrugging. "Maybe I should tell them that I'm going to win valedictorian, first." A smile pulls at his lips, looking at me from the corner of his eye. "I believe that will be historical enough."

"That's it!" I reach behind him for my pillow, smacking him upside the head. "You're going down! And you're going down now!"

He holds his hands up in a useless effort to block. "Blaze! Please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

I beam, tossing my pillow to the floor. "That's what I thought. Any final words before I pounce on you?"

"Uh, what?" He grunts as I land on top of him, sending us crashing back against the pillows as always. You'd think he'd expect it by now.

I nuzzle into him, my heart storming in my chest. "...You're welcome."

...

The location turns out to be an an hour away. Not exactly a road trip, but we loaded up on snacks anyway. He got his favorite, nerds (do you see the irony? Because I never let him forget it). And I stocked up on sweet tea and Twizzlers.

By the time Yuki pulls into a parking space outside a cobblestone poetry haunt, I've downed half of my drink and scarfed down all my beloved candy.

"I don't know what will hit you first," Yuki says, clicking his seat-belt button to release, "A stomachache or a full bladder."

I open my mouth to make a comeback when he leans over me and undoes my seat belt, before climbing out as if this was something he always did. "Hey-"

I hop out of the car, closing the door with a swift push. "I know what I'm doing, Yuki. It has to pass through my urethra to get to my bladder."

"And the thighbone is connected to the hipbone," he says, dryly.

I fold my arms with a huff, blowing past him into the building. If he's such a smart aleck, he can come find me while I look for the burn book.

"Blaze?" He stage whispers, catching up and following closely behind me in the dark crowded room. "Do you see the fireplace, yet?"

I shake my head, putting a finger to my lips. "We're not exactly trying to make it apparent we're not part of the normal crowd."

"Hello there," says a deep voice, making us both jump out of our skin.

We whip around to see a man covered in tattoos and face piercings - from eyebrow to snakebites - and a black leather vest strapped to a muscular hairy chest. His buff legs that came up to my torso were hugged by tight black jeans that transitioned to thick combat boots higher than my homecoming heels.

"Uh..." I swallow. "Hi?"

He slings an arm around my shoulder, and I don't miss the way Yuki's eyes narrow. Whether he's peeved at the stranger's rippling muscles and intimidating stature, or if he was emasculated for reasons unknown. Either way, he followed behind us as the man lead me downstairs, his expression a cross between seething and carefully schooled.

"Are you the anonymous entry? They told me you were running late?"

I look back to Yuki for help, but he's just as confused as I am. I turn back to the man waiting for my response. "Um...that depends. Entry for what, exactly?"

He throws his head back in brash, raucous laughter. And I have to wonder where I missed the punchline. "Why, the poetry slam for crying out loud! What else?"

That's when my eyes adjust to the mostly dark, smoky room. A group of people mingle by the coffee bar, but most are seated in front of a small box shaped stage. Nothing but a single spotlight, a stool, a mic, and a bongo-playing dude with iridescent triangle shades tipped low. He reminded me of a beatnik that I read about in history class. In fact, writing on them and flappers in my paper on Rebellion: Insurrections In History forced me to become an authority on recognizing them.

"The rules are simple," the man continues, leading us to the back row where the only remaining empty seats were, "You respectfully wait your turn, you don't interrupt the speaker, and at the end you show your appreciation in snaps. Not claps." He makes a face of disgust. "This ain't a tailgate party or a football game."

Oh boy. Did I really have to do this?

A bolt of inspiration must hit Yuki square in the forehead, because he shakes me by the shoulder with urgency. When he has my attention, he cups a hand around his mouth and whispers, "Opportunitatem cape. This is our chance to seize the opportunity and create a diversion."

When he sees I'm not following, he quickly explains. "You can go up there and distract until I find the book, then we can meet back at the car."

It would be a foolproof plan if there wasn't the most insignificant, teeny tiny thing.

 **I DON'T KNOW HOW TO IMPROV OR WRITE A POEM!**

"Now folks," the biker says, suddenly materializing at the mic stand on stage. "Our last entry has finally arrived. She's a bit shy so let's give her a warm Pen Penguin welcome. Please welcome to the stage...Cloak!"

Cloak? That's the anonymous name someone entered themselves under?

Okay, I gotta admit. That actually sounded dope.

Yuki gives me an encouraging smile through the rush of snapping fingers that invite me up to the platform. And I tether myself in place with my hands on the mic stand, my eyes watching for Yuki's retreat into the distracted crowd before starting.

I lick my lips, tightening my grip around the black metal pole before taking a deep breath in, exhaling and forgetting that the mic would pick it up. Creating a blast of air that makes everyone cover their ears.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly, wincing when I hear my voice. "Um...today, I'm going to be reciting a poem entitled..."

I look for Yuki in desperate need of support, only to find his back turned as he picks at the bricked fireplace for the one that was loose.

"This one is entitled 'Liar.'"

The crowd murmurs its excitement and I take one hand off the stand to finger the necklace dangling from around my neck. My father's station numbers deep groves ingrained into the brass material. My fingers tremble as I open my mouth, letting the words of my ache speak for me.

" _Crude hands wrap around my throat. Stealing more than breath from me, burning bridges and building moats. Deserted island, how I know you well. The cold hug of solitary confinement, sleeping with lies, hurt that can't be silenced by a wishing well. Break me down until the culmination rests solely in tears I shed when I'm alone in bed. Where no one seems to hear me. Broken sobs, my heart throbs. As if you were dead and already left me. I feel the burn of spending blood in fattening your wallet. I need an escape, an exit...something I can cope with to block it." I duck my head, my voice softer as the conclusion fills itself in. "I would tell someone if it meant liberation. No holding out for freedom of sensation. I tell myself that its all imagined. That if I blink, it will go away. But...the tragedy is, no matter how many times I wake, it won't repay. The memory and the feeling itself is here to stay. Liar. You don't own me. Liar. You will face your own fire. Liar. Who do you think you are? Liar. How many do you have to scar?_ "

A hush falls over the audience that makes my stomach feel like a spinning spool of thread. But then, someone snaps both fingers as enthusiastically as possible, then another. And another. Soon, the whole crowd is on their feet with appraisal and approval of my prose, and it makes me nearly tear up.

I had turned my pain into words and was rewarded for it. Talk about plot twist of a plot twist.

I step down from the stage, greeted by high-fives as I pass the audience on my way to the darkest corner of the room. Hoping that Yuki would somehow know to look for me here.

"Alright, not half-bad. Not half-bad," biker dude says, having recovered the mic. "That's a tough act to follow for all you out there, novice or amateur. With that said...please welcome to the stage our next act-"

Yeesh. If that was how he was introducing the next person, I felt sorry for them. That was pretty lousy.

Yuki rejoins me a few moments into the next person's poem. He clutches a leather bound book to his chest, out of breath.

"Found it..." he gasps out, passing it off to me like we're playing hot potato. "What you said...up there..." he huffs and puffs, raking in breaths as if a greedy man hurrying to collect lottery money. "It was so beautiful. And...painful. I think we need to...talk about it sometime..."

I nod hurriedly, flooded with relief when color starts returning to his face.

We don't waste time ambling back out to the car. He locks the doors and keeps watch out the window while I flip through the leather bound journal, catching glimpses of names, numbers, and sketches. There were mentions of affairs and backstabbing besties; extortion and tax evasion; the dumpers and dumpees. Most of it was shallow, useless information.

But not all of it.

"You see that," I say, jabbing my finger at the page I land on.

He looks over my shoulder, his eyes brimmed with curiosity. "They're a series of numbers. They...look like dates."

I nod. "Exactly. At first glance, it wouldn't look much. But if it is dates like we think...then whatever is written here, applies to the night of our stakeout."

"24.11.18." He reads off in an awed breath, scrubbing his hand over his mouth. "I do believe that's confirmation for all our speculation. Does it mention anything else?"

I search the mess of handwriting done in fading ink, and that's when I see it.

"Yuki..." I trail off.

"What? What is it?"

"There are two other sets of numbers."

"Yes, but what does it mean?"

"I don't know...but trust that we're gonna find out."

...

We arrive at the gated estates shorty after making copies of the burn book and putting it back where we found it. We pull up to the manicured lawns and the guard post in a cab, a fleet of butterflies twirling in my stomach.

"Remember," I say, checking my compact mirror for lipstick on the teeth. "We're working the client angle. She's a high profile fashion photographer, so I think she can smell our fear if we're not careful."

He shakes his head, though he's amused. "Uh...Madam Tatsuyo, I do believe they're waiting on you." He tips his head towards the guard at our window in the back, the cab driver having left me to fend for myself.

"State your name and business."

I stick my nose up, fluffing my hair. "Madame Genevieve. My partner, Hatsuno and I are here to discuss the details of our business shoot for the next evening with Miss Rouge."

The man narrows his eyes, tapping the hood of the aging cab with the tip of his pen. "Humble choice of transportation for someone wishing to seek the company of Miss Rouge. She doesn't see just anybody."

Yuki leans around me, his smile cordial and effortless. "My apologies, sir. Maybe we didn't get off on the right foot. What my partner really meant to say was... _Heart Eyes_."

The man goes stock still at the code word. That thing must be going around the like flu among those in the know.

"Go right on through," he directs, somberly as he lifts the gates arm for us to continue.

"Thank you," I say, trying not to let sarcasm leak into my tone as the window went back up and we come to a stop right in front of a grand marble staircase. It seems to go on for days.

Looks like I picked a bad time to lay off aerobics and calisthenics.

The cab driver doesn't even bother opening either of our doors. He just sticks out his palm, expecting payment.

I dole out a wadded up handful of bills, but he just grunts and keeps his palm out.

"What? It wasn't that far a distance. I paid you fairly."

He swings his gaze from the mansion to us exaggeratedly, lips drawn. "If you know rich folk like this, I think you can pay me way more than that. I could use a new pasta maker back home."

Yuki leans towards him, speaking low. "I think you're trying to rip my friend off. So I suggest that you take your money and run before I get upset. If you wish to make pasta, I can personally see to it that you do nothing but work in food service for the rest of your life, because one word from me can have you blacklisted so fast it would make your head spin."

The driver yanks his hand back as if on fire, turning the engine back over. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, that'll be all. Thank you," he says, climbing out of the car before offering me a hand. "Come Madame Tatsuyo, we have an illustrious shoot to see to."

We walk up the hundreds of steps in silence, though I don't bother hiding how awed I was at how he handled himself with that driver. "Wow...that was...I didn't know a side like that existed in you."

He flushes slightly, looking down at his feet under the guise of watching his step. "I was merely in character. He has to believe I'm a silver tongued business mogul if I'm to sell this act to Miss Rouge. Standing up for you was just a pleasant side effect."

I loop my arm through his again, ringing the doorbell with my free hand. "Well, I'm thankful either way. It was really sweet of you. I know I'm supposed to say that I can defend myself and yada, yada, yada...but I'm still glad you care enough to look out for me."

"Of course." He opens his mouth to continue, only to be cut off by a distinguished and well-dressed gentleman that stands in the entry way. His gloved hand rests perfectly balanced beneath a silver tray covered in Snickerdoodles and an assortment of tea cups, his silver mustache dancing as he speaks in a deep foreign accent.

"Welcome to the estates a la Rouge. May I announce you?"

"Huh?" I ask, scowling when Yuki elbows me lightly.

"Yes, that would be fine," Yuki jumps in. "You can tell Miss Rouge that Madame Genevieve and Mr Hatsuno have arrived."

The butler nods and bows, his balding head glinting in the sun. "Right this way. Miss Rouge is in the sitting room in the midst of her stimulating entertainment. You're fortunate that she blocked off the entire afternoon for appointment only."

He leads us to a grand room filled with lounge chairs, ottomans, a chaise, and a sectional of varying hue of yellow and white. The paint on the walls were a rich green only slightly darker than the shade of money that made it happen. A woman sits in the center of the room, curled up into the fetal position on her couch, vacantly staring at a Christmas Hallmark movie.

They were showing them earlier and earlier every year.

Not that I minded.

"Miss Rouge," her butler calls, only now drawing her attention. "I present you, Madame Genevieve and Mr Hatsuno. They apparently have photo shoot details to go over with you."

The woman looks at us, and its then I'm hit with the fact she's nothing like I expected. Her trim frame was swamped by a grey sweatshirt and gym shorts, her hair an unattractive mess of curls that seemed oily and stringy. But the most alarming detail was the fact her eyes had more bags than a mall.

"Leave us," she commands her butler, snapping her fingers.

"As you wish, Miss."

He bows before exiting, his loafers noiseless as he made his way down the lofty hallways. The woman pauses the movie with the remote that had been covered in chip dust so she could give us her full attention.

"I am not open for business for walk-ins, nor have I ever met either of you in my forty-three years." She brings her fist against her chest, letting out a belch that made cracks show in the walls. I can't help but balk at how unprofessional her dress and behavior were considering her rep. "What are you really here for? You don't strike me as debt collectors or salesmen. Nor are you a client vying for my photographer's eye considering you're dressed in fashions from two decades ago."

She's one to talk.

"I see you would like us to get straight to the point," I conclude, rifling through my purse for the stack of notes and photos I took while we were at the Penguin Pen earlier. "We investigated a lead this morning. And while it wasn't exactly a dead end, it didn't turn up much...except a series of numbers."

I slide them across the crumb covered coffee table, causing her light colored eyes to zero in on them. "We believe you might be able to decode what they mean in relation to the fires that have been happening as of late."

"Fires?" She huffs, though she snatches up the paper. "Fires happen every day. You're going to need to be far more specific than that."

"We're referring to the fire that occurred in September, and then again in October." Yuki perches himself on the edge of the grey sectional across from her, and I follow. "We believe there is another scheduled strike...and that you may know the when and why."

"If nothing else, you have to know what these numbers signify," I add, paying special attention to every shift of her expressions. The way it transforms from contempt to horror in a matter of milliseconds. She gains a faraway look in her eyes, as if we triggered a memory and she was reliving it.

"Miss?" I ask, waving my hand in front of her blank stare. "Are you okay?"

She remains lost for several painful moments. But the longer she stares at the paper, the more she shakes. Her hands shoot up to cover her ears, slamming her eyes shut as something zips through her mind at hurtling speed. I hurry around the table to sit beside her, unsure of what to do while she was in such a rigid, tense position. Mumbling something to herself over and over again.

"Miss Rouge..."

When I receive no answer, I act on instinct and rub circles into her back, lightly hushing her frantic mantra. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have been so straightforward about something this traumatic. I wasn't thinking."

"The fault is mine," Yuki says remorsefully, sitting on her other side. "I should have eased into things more."

"No," Madame Rouge grunts, sweat beading along her hairline and the tip of her lip. "Its not...your fault..." she rushes out, straining to speak. "I just have a hard time forgetting this once I've freshly remembered."

"We understand," I say, feeling a deep sadness as her hurried words give way to sobs, causing her body to tremble beneath my hand. "Maybe we should leave."

"N-no!" She shouts, though her voice is thick with tears. "I'm tired of letting this run my life and deciding how I feel each day. I'm tired of hiding my burns in sweatshirts and eating away my pain. I'm just..." she takes a shuddering, shaky breath. "...tired..."

"Its more than okay if you answer slowly and take your time...but, you mentioned something about burns. Would those be from what's upsetting you."

She gives a wet sniff, rubbing her nose with a greasy sleeve. "Oui. But it is not what matters to your investigation. You came to learn what these numbers mean, not hear my sob story. And—" she dabs at her waterline with the other sleeve. "I don't know if I'll ever be ready to tell it."

"Do you mind if we write it down?" Yuki ventures, fishing a pen out of his jacket pocket, clicking it. "Regarding the numbers."

She bobs her head, sniffing again. "That is fine. What are the numbers again?"

I pick through my notes, finding the paper that had nearly been scattered when she broke down. "24.11.18. I assumed it might be dates for the next attack. November 24th, 2018. But that somehow feels too simple."

"That and there are two more sets," Yuki amends, pen poised at the ready. "If I recall, they're 231 and 578."

I double check, nodding. "Yup. That's right."

Miss Rouge's lips part in surprise, her face ghastly white. "You don't know? Those are three digits for a reason."

"Yes, that's the issue," I say. "They're not seven, so it can't be a phone number. Its not the abbreviated five of a zip code. And its not even separated or as long as a calendar date. Without much context aside from Saturday night, we're stumped."

"Think about the connections," Miss Rouge says as way of explanation. "What else has three digits that might relate to this...attack...?"

I shove my hand under my chin in thought, racking my brain for all the significant numbers I learned in history and math. Was it a formula? A district? Maybe it was on a building nearby...

That's when it hits me. It was on a building!

"Station numbers!" I blurt, half a mind to shout eureka! "They're the numbers of my father's station..."

"And one from a town over," Yuki adds, jotting this down. "The other was established by the mayor's opponent. And of course, your father's station came to be under our current mayor."

 _Oh_ _no_. Did that mean both stations were involved? Or was one station responsible for each fire? I had so many questions still unanswered.

"That's all I can help you with. I'm sorry." She shakes her head, bringing her feet up onto the couch and curling up into a ball. "Please...leave me. I don't want anymore involvement than that."

Yuki and I exchange a look, both of us coming to the same conclusion. That we could figure out the rest later.

We pack up what we brought and exit the sitting room, escorted the rest of the way out by the butler until we find ourselves outside waiting for our ride. Hopefully this new Taxi driver wouldn't be as much of a con artist as the last one.

The evening breeze picks up and causes my white skirt to flutter and flap, making me smack it back down before I flashed Yuki with my underwear. I was not wearing anything sexy today.

Not that I wanted him to see or anything like that.

"I don't know about you," Yuki begins, rubbing his forehead. "But this has been more mentally exhausting than I would have ever guessed."

"That's you and me both, Yuki." I stare out at the passing cars, recalling a game we used to play. "Hey, Yuki? Remember how we used to makeup stories of where each car could be going and who might be in it?"

His expression grows warm and sunny, his laughter a bit lighter than it was earlier. "It would be a crime to forget."

"Too soon," I joke, scanning the hummers and jeeps and mustangs for my first pick. "That 1987 Volkswagen, go!"

Yuki peers at it as it rides off down the busy road, before looking in the general direction it came from. "My guess is a father in a hurry to buy a last minute cake for his daughter's beach birthday party."

I hum appreciatively. "Bonus points for creativity. The beach party was a nice touch."

"It was all too easy." He bows, and I shove him playfully.

I wait for him to point one out for me, but he doesn't. After a few more moments of being patient I get antsy. "Yuki...Where's mine?"

"Oh!" He starts, randomly settling on a mini van. "Try that one."

I smirk. "You probably assumed I'd take the easy way out and say soccer mom carting her kids off to practice. But nope! I say its an older couple on a road trip to see all that this country has to offer. Every city and every path their little old hearts desire."

"In a mini van?" He clucks his tongue. "Not exactly the most efficient means of getting around long term, but I like your style."

"Thank you, sir." I curtsy for him, earning a poke in the side. "Though I can also see you behind the wheel of one considering how safe it is. Either that or a station wagon."

"Is that intended to be an insult?" He asks, tilting his head. "Because safe and economic are far more important than deco body paint and gaudy rims."

I sniff. "I still think it not only lacks sex appeal, but it also doesn't have the specs to back it up. Its a total dud and, yes, that was a dig."

"Then what do you like?" He volleys, knocking the proverbial ball back into my court. "Trucks? Cars?"

"Yes," I quip.

He snorts. The Taxi finally pulls up alongside us as if we had burned through all the idle waiting time. It couldn't have been fifteen minutes already.

"Hey, what do you say we watch a movie back at my house?" I ask as I slide in first. He follows and closes the door behind us, shutting out the daylight with it. "It'd be nice to have a break."

"Agreed." He stretches his legs out in front of him as much as the car allows, looking drowsy as if could fall asleep at any moment. "That sounds close to perfect."

"Oh?" I challenge. "And what would be perfect?"

He cracks an eye open, cheekily replying, "Closing out this case, getting some sleep, and spending time together."

"Oh..." I fiddle with the hem of my skirt, my cheeks pinker than the sunset. "It _would be_ perfect to solve what's going on around here, and then hibernate until graduation."

"And spend time with you," he adds, refusing to let me forget. "Even if the other two don't happen, that would be enough for me."

I smile to myself, whipping my head towards the window to hide it.

"And for me, too."

...

I crouch in front of our vast entertainment system, picking through our collection of Blu-rays, DVDs, and few surviving VCR tapes.

"What are you in the mood for?" I ask Yuki, who just sat down behind me with a massive bowl of popcorn. "Comedy? Romance? Thriller? Disney?"

I threw that one in for good measure, but it definitely wasn't a bad idea by any means.

"I don't know if there's a comedy out there that can actually make me laugh." He picks a kernel, the type to eat one at a time where I ate by the handful. "My humor is hard to pin down."

I laugh. "Dry sarcasm and witty banter is all I need. But my parents really don't have that." I gesture to the Three Stooges as an example. "Slapstick is the shtick around here. Either that or something cheesy off of _Comedy Country_."

He shakes his head bemusedly, popping in another kernel. "They just don't get it."

"They really don't..." I pluck a DVD with an orange case. "The Fox and The Hound and Thumbelina sounds amazing right now. I always love it when she sings, 'Dearie...marry the mole.' Honestly, iconic."

He sets the bowl aside, joining me at the shelves with his hands on his knees to look closer. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather watch Puppy Rockband?" He jokes, eyes lit up with laughter. "Or Chinese Chihuahua?"

"Oh, stop," I grouse, finally deciding on Thumbelina and Mulan. "The fact that we have those makes me want to gag."

He follows me to the couch, crossing one leg over the other like a lady as I tuck my feet between the cushions. One hand turning on the Blu-ray player and the other scooping up too much popcorn for me to handle.

"You know something even better than Disney classics?"

I look at him through narrowed eyes, already plotting to tickle him if he changed his mind about what was finally picked.

"What...?"

"We could watch a murder mystery and make a game of it. If I guess the culprit and how it was done correctly, I pick the next movie."

I scoff. "What? An arson mystery isn't enough for you? But fine," I finish with a sigh, hitting a button to reopen the tray. "And if I guess, you eat whatever I tell you."

His eyebrows shoot for the moon. "Please don't say leeks."

"Better...leek ice cream."

He forces whatever disgusted expression he had away, backed into a corner at his weakness being used against him. It was the one thing he and Kyo had in common with each other, their equal disdain for leeks. He would never tell him that though.

"If you're valedictorian material - which we both know you are - then you've got nothing to worry about. Consider it...a formality..."

A formality of me kicking his butt at his own game.

He holds out his hand, completely unblemished of popcorn evidence.

"You have yourself a deal."

I smirk, clasping his hand with my buttery one and shake on it. Much to his chagrin.

"Agreed."

After I change the input and search for a good one on the mystery channel, I settle in beside him and swathe myself with a blanket that I'd gotten out this afternoon. It was something that had been in the family since before I was born. It was the blanket mom and dad had their third date on. Dad had surprised her with a picnic outside her workplace at the local floral shop she worked at to save for dental school. It still had a wine stain here, a grass stain there. But it was mostly clean and smelled like detergent.

So I wasn't all that embarrassed to let Yuki share it. At least it didn't reek like the stale cheese it had a few years ago.

"Okay, the first murder has been committed," Yuki announces, eyes glued to the screen. "Who do you think the main suspects will be?"

I snort, tossing back more popcorn. "Obvious choices are the scorned widow, the ditz, and the loyal chef. Its always the heartbroken, the ones that play dumb, and the ones that pledge commitment that end up guilty."

He nods a little, though he's quick to give his rebuttal. "Think in terms of chess, Blaze. You and I both know what it's like to watch a game when the choices are easily predictable. Its boring and it ends all too quickly. I imagine this will have a plot twist."

I roll my eyes. "You probably Googled the ending when I wasn't looking."

"And when was that? You never let your eyes stray from mine."

"I'd consider that romantic if it wasn't coming from you, Sir Tease. Listen, I do not stare."

"Okay, if it comforts you..."

Completely shattering the playful atmosphere in one fatal blow, my dad comes staggering into the house. Yuki and I are statues as the strong smell of alcohol raiding the room as he sloppily kicked off his shoes in the dark entryway. He whispers a question, "Is he always like this?"

"You should see him on St Patrick's. We don't even celebrate that here, but he uses it as an excuse to get plastered."

"Oooh," dad needles, like we're in elementary and he found out that I like boys cooties and all. "Yuki and Blaze, sitting in a toilet, K-I-S-I-N-G." He says, his words slurred and misspelled. "No worries...I won't tell your ma."

"Goodnight dad," I say, hoping he'll get the hint. "Talk to you in the morning."

That shining moment you're hungover and on the edge of sober.

I think that maybe he'll leave us alone, but of course, the opposite happens. He steps over the couch, swinging the other leg over and flops down between us. His hands come up to pinch my cheeks. "Just remember to always use protection and don't open it with your teeth." He shoots a look at Yuki, one hand sloppily cupping his mouth as if imparting a secret. "That's what got me pregnant."

I groan, jumping to me feet. "Dad, we're trying to watch the movie. We can talk tomorrow after you've slept it off."

"Pfft," he says, nearly falling over the second he stands. "I don't need to sleep anything off. I'll have you know I'm perfectly sober and not blitzed."

"Dad, please," I beg, dragging him towards his bedroom by his arm. His footsteps sloppy and his eyes glazed over. "Please just go on to bed. We'll try to keep it down."

"Good," he retorts, giving a belly laugh. "Just so long as you're keeping quiet for the right reasons."

It takes me awhile to pickup what he's putting down. But when I do, it feels like my face is on fire.

"Goodnight," I grit out, reluctantly making my way back to Yuki who's staring up at me in curiosity and concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Sure," I mutter, throwing the blanket back over my legs. "If putting up with my drunk father - who we also happen to be investigating - is unafraid to drop innuendos around his own daughter is alright. Then yeah, I'm peachy keen."

 _I just wanted one night._

 _Just one moment where I didn't have to think about him._

 _But even a Genie couldn't grant that request._

Yuki tips his head back to rest on the couch, a dramatic sting blaring from the TV when I feel his hand land on mine beneath the covers. The faint glow illuminating the color in his own cheeks.

"I predict that they'll uncover the murder weapon in the next scene," he says, picking up where he left off. His voice low enough that it makes me shiver.

I chew my lower lip, thankful he was trying to recover our evening. "Well, I bet that it was planted to frame one of the innocent suspects."

He smiles. "I like that theory much better."

I can't even help but smile back, unable to resist how contagious his joy was.

"I was hoping you would."

...

Friday night getting close to one, I rinse my mouth out and spit in the sink. I straighten back up and flash my teeth in the mirror, checking to see that they were still a nice white before I flip the light switch and make my way down the hallway.

I usually brushed my teeth and did just about everything else before coming over, but I've been too on edge and swamped in research to sleep at my parents'. My sister was ecstatic to have the room to herself, and I was perfectly content spending nights in Yuki's bed.

I start to yawn, bringing my hand up to my mouth to stifle it when I hear a high pitched squeal that sends me wheeling back against the wall.

"What are you doing here?" Kyo demands, his eyes wide. "This time of night, wearing that!" He jabs an accusing finger in my direction, gesturing at my oversize Bugs Bunny shirt and uncovered legs.

Just as I clam up, searching for an explanation, Yuki pokes his head out the door. He steps out fully when he sees the two of us. "What's going on that's making you scream your head off at one am, baka?"

Kyo growls, balling his fists. "The better question is what Blaze is doing here in that?"

He pointedly glowers at my outfit - or the lack thereof - before facing Yuki again.

"None of your business," he responds coldly. He beckons me forward with his hand and I take the hint to hurry past him into his room for safety. Yuki kicks off of the threshold, cutting Kyo's word short with the slam of the door.

I land on his bed, hugging one of his pillows to my chest as he flips on his desk lamp, plopping down at his desk. I grumble at this, trying to get his attention as he resumed using his laptop. I had my heart set on us going to bed because I was exhausted and it was cold and I just wanted to cuddle. But nope. There he was, browsing articles on fires, procedures, and burn treatments for the worst case scenarios.

I slap the bed. Hard. And still nothing from him but mouse clicks and clacks of his LED keyboard.

"Yuki!"

"Huh?" He snaps his head towards me, hands hovering over the keys. "What is it?"

I put the pillow I'm holding back in its place, arranging the countless others so that it created a box shape for us to lay in the middle. Then I look back at him expectantly, sticking out my lip. "Yuki...come to bed. _Now_."

He gives a side smile, closing his laptop before flicking out the light. "Yes dear."

I roll my eyes and settle into my side of the bed between our pillow kingdom, giving a happy little hum when he joins me and brings the covers up over us. Lifting his arm for me to rest my head on his shoulder and nestle into his side.

I wrap my arm around him, peering out into the darkness until I see the lights coming off his computer, and acclimatize to the rest. "I'm scared," I admit, sucking in a breath. "In a matter of hours we're finally going to see what this has all lead up to. But I wonder if I'll be satisfied with either ending."

"What do you mean?" He whispers, his thumb stroking my shoulder.

"Like...what if my dad isn't responsible and it was all completely off base? What I've assumed the worst for months and had all this insomnia for it to be nothing. Or at least nothing involving him."

"And the other thing?"

I release a long breath, feeling as though I've saved that one since my mom pulled me aside and told me of what he'd done and swore me to secrecy until she figured something out for us.

She never did.

"My other concern is if he _is_ involved - as the ringleader or just a muscle-head - that I have to actually see that with my own eyes. What if I have to confront him there and I see him for who he really is? Then if he goes to prison for it...how will my mom and sister take it?" My voice weakens with the next panicky thought. "How will I?"

He brings both arms around me, smooshing me to him. "Hey. You can't think like that. Not when we're this close. Or you'll get in your head too much and get in your own way."

"But-"

"Weren't you the one that, in this very bedroom, told me that you may not be a hero...but you were no coward? What happened to that bravery I saw in you? Blaze, your courage is what inspires mine." He buries his nose in my collar, closing his eyes. "If you're not strong, its hard for me to be."

I nod slowly, soothed only by leaning on him for this just as much as he said he relied on me.

"It helps knowing we're facing him together," I say, my eyes growing heavy in the aftermath of fighting fear, sleep, and relaxation for so long. "I will never forget what you're doing for me."

I feel him smile against my neck, his lips feathery soft and comforting against my skin. "But please never forget that I want to."

...

The night of the stakeout holds the wisp of a breeze, the dread of sirens, and the darkness that crawls to all corners of the streets. Yuki and I sit huddled up in the front seat of Haru's black pickup truck, considering it was too cold a night and we were too chicken to straddle his beast of a bike.

I flip through a couple of radio stations, being blasted by the heavy metal and rock music Haru always played at top volume until we crossed into indie, pop, talk shows, and jazz. Maybe it was just me, but I didn't think the Yo-De-Lay-Hee-Hoo station fit the gumshoe mood.

"Hey by the way," I say, finally settling on alternative. "What did you say to your cousin to borrow his truck?"

Yuki blushes, turning to train his gaze somewhere out the driver window. "Let's just say he's deeply fond of me. I didn't have to do anything but ask and he was all too eager to handover his truck to keep if I wanted."

I laugh, hitting the lever to collapse the seat enough that I could still see out the windshield but lay down a little. "You've gotta tell me that story one day. I get love between cousins, but he sounds like a Yuki fanboy."

He unscrews the cap to a bottle of water he'd brought to the stakeout, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, you're probably right about that."

For some time after that, we lull into a watchful, nervous silence. Both of us on edge in painful anticipation of what might happen at any given moment.

I scoop up an insane amount of smarties, crunching them between my teeth as my eyes jump to everything that jumps out of a corner. Gnats, flies, frogs, they were all potential suspects.

"Blaze," Yuki says, his hand stopping me from grabbing more candy. "You're stress eating again. You've already gone through three bags of Smarties and half a bag of saltwater taffy."

I pull away, embarrassed at having been caught in the act. Even worse, I didn't even know I was doing it.

"You're right." I shake my hands out, jittery and hopped up on sugar and caffeine. "What's taking so long? We've been here since six, and now its—" I squint at the digital clock on Haru's dashboard. "Its ten at night. Its not like I expected there to be a time like Arsonist o'clock, but I figured this would have happened hours ago."

He cracks a small smile, though I can tell he's just as affected by how drawn out this was. It was like getting a shot or ripping off a bandaid. You knew it was going to sting, but the anticipation of it happening was often worse than the actual thing.

 _Thud_.

I hit my head on the ceiling when I jump, startled at the sound coming from outside. I hiss at the pain that cracks through my skull. "Ow!" Usually there was some foam or cloth, but no...this was metal straight up no chaser.

"Blaze, you're bleeding," Yuki exclaims, his hands flying to my hair to inspect my injury. "It must have caught on the piece that juts out."

I groan. "We don't have time for this. Do you have anything to treat wounds? Like a first aid kit or something...?"

He pauses, uncertainty in his eyes. As if afraid to tear his gaze away from me for even a moment. He finally withdraws long enough to rummage through the bag he packed. "H-hold on...I'm not sure."

I force myself to rest my hands in my lap, too scared to see the injury for myself. "Does it look as bad as it feels?"

"I don't know." He fishes out a miniature white kit with a bright red cross on it. "How does it feel on a scale from 1-10?"

"Like an eleven."

He nods hurriedly, searching for antiseptic and gauze. "Then yes, it looks how it feels."

He pops the top off to squirt some of the antiseptic on his finger, but that's when I remember the sound I heard before.

"Yuki!" I slap him on the arm over and over. "Look! Its my dad! And a couple of his drinking buddies!"

Before he can stop me, I throw open the passenger door, jumping to my feet regardless of his protests. But my body seems to do enough of that for the both of us. I bring my hand up to my head, my legs weak and shaky as my vision blurs.

"Blaze," he shouts, though its more of a whisper when my vision swims and I stagger forward.

"I've got to...catch my...dad."

I blink trying to see better, trudging onward despite the distant sound of a car door opening. Before I know it, I've followed the sound of my father's voice into the dilapidated clinic. Passing by bolted shut doors and dark hallways. I poke my head out to see around a wall, jerking back when I realize he's looking right at me.

I wasn't doing my dizziness any favors, but that was the least of my worries now.

"Hey! Get back out here, girl!" Booms another voice, this a rougher woman's.

I wince at what its volume does to my pounding head, debating if I could make a run for it and abort the mission.

"You heard her Blaze," says my father. "Come out."

My legs warble so much I wonder if I'll fall over. I have to practically pick up my legs as I make my way forward, taking in the lounge area. My father stood beside an unlit fireplace, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a red canister. A woman that I don't recognize flanks him, wearing a frayed jean vest with a white tank and distressed jeans. Her long blond hair hangs over tattooed ears that are ascribed with Korean names as she smokes a cigarette. The other two men I recognize as people on my dad's squad that like to celebrate a job well done at the bar together. They both circle me like lions thinking about how best to eat their next meal.

"What are you doing here? Does your mother have any idea about where you've gone?"

Of course not, and he knows it.

"Is this your daughter?" The woman asks, looking snotty and all too sure of herself. "Or your whore?"

I shrink back at her harsh words, nervously peering at my father who seethes beside her. He raises his hand and sends it crashing over her face, causing her to stumble back and catch herself on the fireplace's hutch.

"Keep your filthy ideas to yourself, Bania."

She rattles off some things in Russian I'm glad I don't understand, shooting me a dirty look as she recovers and stamps her cig under her boot. Quick to replace it with a fresh one.

My father faces me again. And his expression softens just the slightest, though not enough to beckon me to stay.

"I'm only going to ask you this once, Blaze...why are you here? And why do you look so banged up?"

"Because I know what you've been doing," someone speaks up, causing me to pivot as much as my headache allows. He steps in front of me protectively, his hand reaching back to grab mine. And that's when I feel him shaking.

Yuki.

"A Sohma here on these grounds?" My father shouts, his voice echoing. "That's almost poetic!"

"What are you talking about?" Yuki asks, his eyebrows furrowed. "What does my family have to do with this clinic? They've never done any business regarding mental health or trauma."

Bania snorts through her pierced nose, a breath of smoke shooting at us like fireworks. "You kidding? Akito Sohma is the one pulling the strings, we're just his puppets."

"You talk far too much Bania." My father shakes his head, unlatching the cap of the canister of liquid he holds. "Never reveal your plans before you execute them, common sense 101."

I squeeze Yuki's hand, reminding him that I was still here with him. "We already made the connections between this clinic and the other two that burned up," I say, causing my father to stop in his tracks. "Mom let me in on that a long time ago. But what she doesn't know is that we've also talked to some of the burn victims about what happened."

My father narrows his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I should be talking to you through a landline with glass between us, but instead you're here. About to make another grave mistake."

The men that were tracking my every movement move so that they stand on either side of my father. One of them whispering something that sounded suspiciously like 'get rid of' and 'or else'. My father reels back at the mere suggestion, a mean grimace curling his lips. "You take orders from me, you don't tell me to do anything."

"Actually," Bania supplies, "Akito is the boss. You're second in command, last I checked."

This makes my father furious. He grasps Bania by the throat, slamming her forcefully against the wall so hard she almost drops her cigarette a second time.

"It doesn't matter who the brains are if you play with fire, does it?"

Her face turns ashen, her eyes wide. "Y-you wouldn't dare."

He tightens his grip around her throat. "Try me!"

He tips the red container forward, spilling brown liquid all over her boots. And at this she pales even further, her hand tightening around her smoke stick as if her life depended on it. And as I sniff the air, I realize that maybe it did.

Because it now reeked of gasoline.

He lets her go and she gulps for breath, my father shoving her aside to pour a trail of gasoline along the wooden floor. So much so that the entire room is slicked with a circle of flammable fluid, and we were in the middle.

"What are you doing?" Bania shrieks, voice now hoarse. "He said to set it off and then leave! You're going against the plan!"

"I make the plans now!" My father yells back, tossing the now empty can aside. "Someone's gotta silence everyone that knows about this. We can't afford to leave any witnesses. The way I see it, you're a loose end."

"How can you do this?" I ask, gesturing around the room. "There are so many lives in your hands, and you're just fine with burning them all? What would you do if it were me in one of those clinics?"

He brings his finger up as it wag it at me. Like he has any jurisdiction to try and parent me when he's doing something like this. "You should have stayed out of it. You need to go home. Now!"

"Not before you tell me what made you become this," I counter, looping my arm through Yuki's. "You mentioned the Sohmas being in charge, but I don't see how that correlates with the mayor. This isn't some political battle for the upcoming election?"

"The election?" One of his cronies barks out a laugh. "Who cares about that crap? This is the big time, toots. Why don't you run along and go play with your dolls?"

I roll my eyes. "I didn't think someone could be sexist and ageist at the same time, but you proved me wrong on that one."

He stomps forward as if to flex on me with a punch to the face, but my father throws an arm out to stop him.

"You don't touch a hair on her head or I will end you where you stand." He expels a breath, his hands moving through his hair to slick it back. He steps towards Yuki and I, but I step back. He follows me despite the way Yuki demands otherwise, until my back hits the wall I'd been snooping around. His hands take my by the shoulders as his eyes search mine.

"I know Yuki is your friend, Blaze. But the head of his family handed down orders and I was merely following through." He tilts his head, and its this expression of his that reminds me of what I saw at the library. When I'd perused the internet and came across his photo...saw this as an alter ego that he could put on or off.

But this wasn't alternative to who he truly was.

It was him.

"What would Akito Sohma want with a bunch of clinics?" I spit out, hating the way my eyes wanted for tears. "There's money in them, sure. But burning them up? That's counterproductive if his main motivation is greed."

"How naive you are," he muses under his breath, rent with disappointment. "He wants it all to end in silence. This is the underground for a lot of dirty business under the guise of it being a mental health clinic. Sure, there's that. But its really to uncover how much people know about what. Doctor-Patient confidentiality don't mean a hill of beans, sweetheart."

"What is he dying to hide?" I plead, more fervent than before. "What is worth snuffing out all these lives?"

"Why do you think half of the people here got PTSD?" My father throws back, getting right in my face. "Trauma. What do you think they saw?"

I shake my head over and over. "I don't know."

"Oh, sure ya do," he says, hands squeezing my shoulders so tight his nails dig into the blades. "You spend enough time with one of them to know. You've never been stupid, you know they're corrupt."

"If that's the case then why didn't you ban Yuki?" I scream over the sound of my aching, bleeding heart. "Why didn't you send him away if he's the villain of this story?"

"Don't you get it?" He busts out into a crazed laugh, releasing me and turning on his heel. "You were my way in. Your friendship with that boy told me when he was here. It told me the timing I needed to put the plan in action. It told me...that you were out of harm's way." He shoulders past Yuki, his footfalls heavy and sure. "So long as you were with him, I knew you were safe."

"What. Was. He. Trying. To hide?" I yell, advancing on him though he kept his back to me. Like I wasn't worthy of his respect anymore. " _What_?!"

Bania glares daggers at my father. Fury washing away the fear that she was a walking fire waiting to happen. She works her jaw back and forth before uttering the words—

"I'm done."

My father tenses, though he says nothing.

"Ya hear that?" She quips. "I said I am done listening to you. Your girl wants to know so badly, then I'll tell her!"

At this he finally looks up, a loaded threat in his eyes before they manifest in his enraged warning. "Don't be a fool, Bania."

"Ya tebya nenavizhu!" She retorts hotly, spitting at his feet before she redirects her animosity at me. Eyes alight like the hatred in them burned with kerosene. "We were to set it off to destroy the records of hazings that went on years ago. There are several people here that witnessed what Akito did in his fraternity in the past."

"Hazings?" I repeat. "Why would anyone care about his life in college? The only time that matters is—"

"—When someone gets hurt," Yuki completes for me, aghast. "That's radioactive fodder for the presses. If he initiated or was even a part of dangerous fraternity traditions...it would tank the entire business."

"Da," the woman confirms. "Your entire family would go up in flames. Rush week had gone smoothly, the pledges were eager little puppies with a bone within their reach. Sohma owned the charter and was responsible for the hazing. Two of the men had died because they drank from 'The Gaunlet of Brotherhood.' Its an extremely strong cocktail of several brews and booze mixed together. They both died of blood alcohol poisoning, and everyone there knew it."

"What...?" I hug myself, feeling lightheaded and weird and unable to process what I was hearing. "This entire time...it was all to keep anyone from telling the truth of what happened?"

"Its a complete obstruction of justice," Yuki says, eyes narrowed. "And he was responsible for the loss of two people."

"Tell that to your cousin at the next reunion, then," Bania retorts. "And remind him that the body count is only growing the more he tries to cover it up...I would have left a long time ago if my hands weren't tied with what he had on me from my past in Okinawa."

"Need I remind you that your fire station in that very region is one of those responsible for the cover up of initiation?" My father remarks darkly. "I was going to negotiate and vow your protection, help you make a new name for yourself once this was all over. You would have faced severe punishment for your part in all this, but your pathetic lungs would have still breathed. Now, you just bought yourself a death sentence."

The next several minutes or hours happen slowly and quickly...in slow motion...and sped up so fast that the story of what happened was stitched together in a blur.

Because my father throws his lighter toward Bania, but her hands fumble to catch it. The gasoline making her hands to slippery to hold onto anything, even though it was the one thing standing between life and death.

The second before it hits the floor, my father takes off in a run. But he's still too slow.

The next thing I know...everything is black. My head hurts like a broken drum, because it felt like it'd split open while it pounded in a pain worse than a migraine. The air that surrounded me smelled of stale copper, smoke, and burning flesh. Like an animal was being cooked over a spit.

The heat that swam through the dry air felt suffocating. But it was so, so dark...I couldn't tell up from down or see where it all was coming from.

I force my eyes open, and hiccup in shock of the scene. Bright red-orange flames licked every surface near me, devouring it as if between the jaws of an untamed beast, feeding on every drop of oxygen in the atmosphere. I clutch my head, fingers soaked and caked with blood so dark it looks almost pitch black as I finally begin to recognize where I am.

Its the recreation area of the clinic, or at least what's left of it as it burns hotter and hotter the more seconds pass. I desperately look around for any living soul that could help me...that could tend to my wounds or tell me what happened.

I see nothing for awhile so I decide to stand for a better vantage point. Though it was hard to see through my blinding headache and watery eyes as the force of smoke and heat of the flames dried up every last fluid it could get. "Anybody here?" I croak out, though its too much for my voice and my body so I collapse to the ground in a coughing fit. My chest burning with smoke inhalation that sat in my chest and refused to budge. "Hello?" I try again, hacking so hard that I feel like I'll throw up if I can't stop.

"Blaze?"

My head whips up, though I'm too terrified to regret how it makes my head feel. Injuring it twice made me unsure of whether I was actually hearing something or imagining it. But I decide to cling to it anyway as if I knew without a doubt that someone was here with me.

"Yes? W-who's there?"

"Its me..." his voice cuts off as the thickening black smoke chokes it. "Its...Yuki..."

"Yuki?" I struggle to stand to my feet again, my legs quickly sliding out from under me when I try. And my palms smack against the ground first, yanking them back when it feels like something sharp burst through my skin. Upon closer inspection, I see that I cut myself on a wedge of glass.

"Ow..." I draw my hand up to my mouth and suck on it, though it doesn't make me feel better at all.

"I'm coming to get you," he says, arms up in front of his face as he wheezes through the broiling fog. "After I help you out, I need you to call 119. Then I'm going back for the others."

"No way," I shoot back, hugging my wounded hand to my chest. "We're in this together, Yuki. Together. I'm not leaving you behind."

He comes to a stop in front of me, the toe of his loafers barely touching my knee as I rake my gaze up his body for any injuries. His clothes are singed and suffering a few holes here and there, but they were mostly fine. But when I look at his face—

"No, no, no, no, no, no! No! No!" I say over and over again, my stomach turning inside out. "Yuki, you're..."

"I know," he says solemnly, coughing into his fist as another painful, rattling sound ravages his lungs.

A tear slips down my ash-streaked cheeks, quickly replaced by three more.

But I couldn't mourn his burns right now or the weight of what my father has done.

And there was no time for us to go back and save the others. If he did, his asthma and second-degree burns would be game over for him. But if I went...I could do it. The statistics of my survival were low, but I stood the better chance of the two of us.

I just needed to get him to safety.

"You go on ahead and call the ambulance, I'll check to see everyone out."

Instead of dignifying my heroics, he tucks his arm under my legs. And he hoists me off the ground bridal style, seeking the way out.

"Yuki? I said—"

"I'm aware of what you said, but I can't let you," he says, leaving no room for argument. "If it means getting you medical treatment and keeping you from running back in here, I'll stay by your side. But you cannot go after them."

"But Yuki, they could be hurt. Or worse! I can't just walk away and pretend that their lives aren't at stake!"

He doesn't respond to this. Instead, he cradles me in his arms and jumps through a burning door frame, falling to the ground having not adjusted to my weight combined with his in taking that leap. I end up rolling away from him and hitting a wall. I extend a hand to try and reach for him, but the top of the ceiling above us creaks and gives way.

The only thing I can remember as the ceiling explodes in a cloud of soot and debris is crying his name.

"YUKI!"

...

As I sat in a chair that made every part of my body ache...soot and ash covering my nose and cheeks, looking like my father's daughter...just as broken...just as lost...

I was thinking about odd things.

Like, the fact Yuki never got to decide what he wanted to do with his life. Here he lies on a hospital bed with machines keeping him alive and half of his face blistery and covered in gauze, and he never picked a major. Or a career. He couldn't decide.

Why couldn't he decide?

I bow my head, crumbling again for the umpteenth time tonight. My hands make fists...or maybe my nails had already dug into my palm from the moment I saw him here. My eyes fill with tears that fall...or they were already falling when they said he could have died. My heart breaks... or its already been cracked open when I caught word of my father's arrest, everything bleeding out of it onto the floor. Right along with the lives of Bania and my father's accomplices.

I clasp my hands over my head, biting my lip hard. Ineffectually trying to stop a sob that had already broken free. Had already ripped through my chest and exploded out of my mouth.

I think about more things, some less strange...but so much _worse_.

He might not make it to prom.

I didn't get to ask him if he'd rather take me to the ball instead.

We never graduated or talked about what just happened or—

...I never confessed my feelings to him.

I whimper, a crippling pain in my chest like nothing before. One so vocal, so loud that I couldn't not utter it.

Why didn't I ensure that nothing could keep me from him? Why did fear of his rejection matter so much more to me than the possibility of his reciprocation? I still had a chance to love him, then...

"Why?" I clap a trembling hand over my mouth, my forehead still pressed to the hospital blanket as my shoulders shook with my weeping. Tears splash against the tile beneath my scorched boots. And I only now vaguely register that I must have been hurt in the fire in more ways than emotionally.

"I need you, Yuki. _Please_." I shake my head, hearing it for the weak, futile cry that it was. "You're not allowed to die before I tell you what I feel. You're not supposed to!" Anger rushes in on the heels of devastation, and I furiously swipe at the tears on my cheeks. "We were supposed to get my dad. We were supposed to help everyone who ever had their lives ruined by his decisions. You...I dragged you into this."

I bash my fists against my head, wanting to beat the memories and the thoughts and the guilt out of my mind. The thoughts...the memories...the guilt...

I look up with a start, having felt a cold, clammy hand my pull my own hands away from me.

Its then that I hear the faintest of voices.

"Stop..."

"Yuki?" I question, hesitant to believe this was anything more than a concussion induced dream.

"Stop...hurting..." he rasps, pale pink lips trying to speak through drawn breaths. "Stop hurting...yourself..."

Words don't come in this moment. Usually, this is where I dramatically launch myself at him and cry into his arms, reconciled and happy. But I don't know what to do or what to feel...because all I could think about was; my fault, my fault, my fault.

It repeated over and over again, and I wanted to make it stop. To sedate myself with my own consequences.

"Blaze," he manages, hovering somewhere between a whisper and a breath. "I chose this..." his hand tightens around mine, strength returning to his grip before the color did. "I didn't only act because of a greater good or to figure out what field I belong in...I chose this for you. For us."

I shake my head, not trusting I was really hearing this. "Yuki—"

"I love you," he croaks, his free hand lifting to cough into it.

Its as if my unraveling heart threads back together with those very words.

"You...you love _me_?"

He smiles, even though it took took a toll on him as if he just bench-pressed a house. "There's no one else I would run into a burning building for. Though, usually, a sane person would run in the opposite direction."

Even this gets a smile out of me, though this entire moment seems like its been imported straight from a daydream. "You love me," I repeat, still trying out the words. Tasting them. Listening to how they sounded in my voice and his.

"I've loved you for years, Blaze," he admits, lacing our hands together. "In fact, I was looking at rings just the other day."

At this, I nearly pass out.

"Rings?! Yuki! Don't you think we should date and _then_ get engaged? I always knew you liked to be three steps ahead, but marriage?!"

His laugh comes out wispy and somehow full, and the way he looks at me is the way he'd been for the longest time. I just never knew to call it anything beyond friendship and affection.

"I actually meant friendship rings." He lifts his other hand again, and its the first time I notice a silver band on his right ring finger. Though its been partially blackened by the burns he suffered. "I was planning to surprise you with a matching one after the stakeout. I just didn't expect to end up in the hospital."

My eyes grow misty all over again, though I'm not sure that they ever had a chance to dry. My feelings were everywhere all at once.

"Which makes me wonder...how long has it been?"

At this, somberness robs what little peaceful ground I gained, standing to be a painful reminder of how long we were apart. How I thought we would never be together again.

"Five days," I confess, looking out the window at the rain gushing from the skies. It was a heavy downpour on a very dark and starless night, thunder and lightning approaching from the distance.

"In fact..." I snort bitterly. "Tomorrow is the Fire Ball. Guess you woke up just in time for me to ask."

"If you do, the answer is yes," he says, trying to sit up though I protest this immediately.

"I was being sarcastic, Yuki! You need to rest."

"I'm serious, Blaze," he counters. He grunts with the energy it takes, but he slowly sits up. His arms warble and his hands wobble as he pushes himself up. And I don't know whether to insist he lay back down or applaud him for his strength.

"I want to be with you tomorrow night," he says, his hand drifting up to cup my cheek. "And every day and night after. But its special for you so I want to be there."

I stumble on my words. "B-but, I—" I sit forward in my seat, noting the edge to his expression that proves unyielding and stubborn. "You can barely sit up, they're not going to discharge you so soon."

"Then I will leave against doctor's advisement if necessary," he retorts.

"Have you not grasped the gravity of the situation? You could have asphyxiated and died of asthma complications!"

"But I didn't, Blaze...and its what happened that makes me set on being there." He folds his arms over his chest, the IV in his arm moving with him. "I _want_ to be where you are."

I gape at him, truly at a loss for what I could say to make him come to his senses. "I can't believe you're going this far for me...why would you do this? I don't understand."

He inclines his head, amusement prancing in his eyes. "I think you've already heard me say why twice. But I still haven't heard yours."

A panicky feeling builds up a crescendo in my chest. "My what?"

"Your why," he fills in. "Why you're still here in this hospital with me. I know that I wasn't awake the entire time, but I can tell you haven't gone home once if you're still in your clothes from the fire."

I bounce my leg up in down, fixating my eyes on it as if it would distract me from his question. I knew the answer to it, that's one thing...but there's a difference between being sure of what you feel, and being sure that you can actually say it.

I sigh at my silliness.

If he can tell me he loves me, then I can say it back.

I've known it for as long as I can remember.

Felt it for even longer.

"I stayed because you're my best friend. You're the only one that can win against me at chess. You know my strategies and what moves you can pull to make my heart skip. You know that I love bundling up in your bed with the room set at exactly 73 degrees, in my Looney Tunes shirts. I stayed because you join in on my harebrained schemes like feeling out an arson case or binging every episode of Star Wars any day of the year. I stayed because I trust you with my thoughts...my emotions...my life. But the main reason I stayed, is because I..."

Before I can back out, I get to my feet and climb onto the hospital bed with him. Careful to watch for his feet and all the tubes and wires connected to his EKG and monitors. And like always, he lifts his arm and I tuck into his side. I stare up at him until he looks down at me, and I can't hold back the smile that surfaces on my face.

"I love you, Yuki. That's why I stayed."

When his hand cups my cheek and our foreheads touch, a rush of blush stains his cheeks and mine. I feel like the cold, hard Winter in my heart has defrosted with the Spring that his holds. My chest expands with warmth for a different reason. I feel as if freedom is in every breath instead of the fear that had strangled me for so many months, now.

I place a hand on his chest to lean my head back. And in a moment as quick as a butterfly fluttering, I welcome his lips with mine. Knight captures the Queen...

Checkmate.

...

There was an awkward song and dance my mom did now while my dad awaited trial for his crimes. Her smiles were strained, her posture stiff, and her words spoken to me short. I knew that she just lost her husband to justice, but she seemed to forget I lost my dad too. And she should have been mad at him instead of turning on me, but I couldn't tell her what to do with her own feelings. So I just tried to stay out of her way until May when I graduate and get settled into my own dorm. Though I doubt college is still an option due to the biggest scandal the town has ever seen.

At least I could tell my future children I made the front page for busting their grandfather.

I inspect myself in the mirror hanging over our bedroom door, spinning to see how my old blue dress fit me. Thing is...it didn't. And as I bent down to touch my toes to see if my cleavage could hang, I heard a telling rip of fabric come out of my backside. The draft hits me before I have the chance to slap my hands over the tear, heat burning my ears when I hear a slow clap coming from the top bunk.

"Good job Blazed," my sister taunts, smirking. "Do it again, but this time...wait for me to get my phone out so I can record it."

I roll my eyes, not getting out of the useless mess fast enough, before kicking it under our shared vanity. "You wanna start acting like my sister and let me borrow something...? Oh, silly me." I place my hand under my chin. "It wouldn't be able to contain all my curves. I forgot that you're flatter than an envelope."

She gives me her worst glare, and I wonder if her pet hamster would fall over dead if it got caught in its harsh rays. "At least I'm not going to poke a bunch of boys' eyes at at the ball, busty Pinocchio."

I scowl. "Better that than getting confused for a table. Then again, maybe that's what you want. You're already dressed in that tablecloth you call clothes."

"You're being real nice for someone asking me for something," she points out, hopping down from her bed without using the ladder and _still_ somehow sticking the landing. All those years of gymnastics were worth something I guess. "We need to go shopping if you want to stand a chance of not looking stupid."

Being twins, though fraternal, meant she couldn't take it if I showed up in something sub levels below her standards. As much as I don't like saying it, she _did_ have impeccable fashion sense.

As she searches her cluttered handbag for her row of credit cards, I sigh, realizing that I didn't really have a choice.

"There's only three hours until the ball, Ember. How will I even have time for makeup and nails?"

She huffs. Whether her trouble finding a credit card that wasn't maxed out or me calling her by her actual name was the problem, I was clueless. I just knew she preferred Em because it wasn't as embarrassing as Blaze, and she was a shopaholic. It could go either way.

"Chill out. Your hair is already done. I can do your makeup, and we can get our nails done together. Easy peasy lemon squeezy."

I relax a little at having a plan in place. It was a little too early to declare it foolproof, but she might have just prevented a disaster so bad even FEMA couldn't clean it up.

"Okay, okay..." I concede, hands raised. "But no more remarks on rips in dresses."

"Fine. So long as you don't take any more shots at my A cup."

"Throw in an espresso and you have a deal," I bargain, accepting her credit card from her to store in my own wallet.

"Yeah, yeah...whatever."

...

The mall was a living nightmare because homecoming and the ball were both on the same night for our area. And that meant a lot more last minute shoppers than I ever thought. Though, perhaps some of that could be attributed to people shopping for Christmas and Winter break, but I digress...

Since the attire was formal, I settled on a bright red dress with a double slit that was backless and crossed in the front. It was far less tomboy than I was accustomed to, but I dig it.

Ember convinced me to borrow her black stilettos at the last second because we were running low on time and funds. But since I couldn't stand heels higher than an inch, I would ditch them as soon as it came time for dancing. Yuki's feet could thank me later. I paired the ensemble with a simple black and silver clutch that held my phone, some gum and mints, and a rescue inhaler. I always carried Yuki's spare in case he forgot his and ran into some trouble, like an overload of perfume or dust or stress. And the wintry air was a big no no for asthma. I was more than concerned for him attending something like this so soon after his discharge, but I knew I couldn't fight him on it. He'd go even if it meant slow dancing with me in forearm crutches.

My hair was styled into perfect black waves that swept the middle of my back, dipped with red dye to disguise the singed ends the fire caused. My nails were a simple french so as not to steal the spotlight from my black choker and other accessories. The finishing touches were the smoky gradient of eyeshadow from white to orange to red, and the simple ChapStick I toted around like my life depended on it. I had to give my sister her props, because her makeup job and borrowed shoes really made me feel...almost...

Hot.

Like a darker, edgier Cinderella.

I was going to a ball, after all.

"Hey, Ember," I call from the living room, where mom is taking pictures of Em with her boyfriend. "Do you need a ride with us to the ball, or...?"

Ember scoffs, turning so that her boyfriend held her in the classic prom pose with his hands around her waist and her back to his chest. "We decided its best I not show my face considering the total embarrassment dad was."

"Emmy," mom scolds, her eyebrows scrunched together.

"Ugh!" She groans, grabbing her skater boy for a date by the hand and pulling him along behind her. "Stay in denial, mom. But we're heading to homecoming. And Blaze—" she looks at me over her shoulder, a teasing look in her eyes. "Try to get in trouble tonight, at least once. It'll do you both some good." She pops the front door open and pauses at the threshold, half in and half out. "Though it'll be hard to best getting dad arrested, I'm sure you'll think of something."

Mom plants her fists on her hips, ready to lecture her for her rudeness, but Ember has already escaped into her boyfriend's convertible in a whirlwind of scented lotion and cheap cologne. I swivel towards mom to ask if she'll take my picture, but she sets her digital camera down on the island before I can even ask. Storming off to her bedroom, shutting the door with the force of a hurricane.

And it feels like she crushes my heart between the door.

By the time the doorbell rings, I'm fanning myself to keep my tears at bay for my look to stay intact. And crying in front of Yuki was very, very bad because he hated seeing me hurt. By the time I open the door, I'm leaning like the tower of Pisa on stilts in my hand me down heels until Yuki steadies me with his hands on my waist.

"Are you sure you want to walk in those all night?"

"No," I gasp out, my life flashing before my eyes at the mere thought of slipping again. "Let's just hurry out to your cousin's car so we can get to the dance faster."

He smiles at me, taking me in for the first time without the distraction of me almost scraping my face against the floor. "You look..." he seems to search his brain for the word, so I volunteer some.

"Gorgeous? Alluring? Kissable...?" I throw in, coyly. Hoping there will be plenty of that involved tonight. "Because I think you are too. And insanely handsome."

He looks down at his shoes, his smile growing wider.

I knew he was feeling insecure about the burns on his face and hand, but nothing could detract from his appeal. He was insanely beautiful no matter what he wore or how he looked that day.

"Really? I thought the suit might be a bit much, but Haru managed to talk me down from a three piece. He had Momiji hide my vest until I had no time left to look for it."

"A three piece?!" I take another appreciative scan of his white dress shirt, red tie, and black slacks. His black coat fit perfectly over his shoulders and his narrow torso. "Funnily enough, it gets pretty hot in the Fireman's Ball. So I'm glad the only thing you'll have to strip is a coat."

Heat floods his cheeks, so he's quick to lead me out into the cooler air. He keeps a secure arm around my waist to help me stay balanced, though I still stagger and stumble. Just when I was convinced that maybe heels and I could get along.

Yeah, and I'm Mary Jane Watson.

A hundred years later, we reach the end of the driveway and—

"YUKI," I scream, as if I'm being mauled by a bear. "Is that a limo?"

"That's a bit of a stretch," he jokes, but I'm too awestruck by the limo to roll my eyes at his pun.

"I thought your cousin was driving us in his old jalopy. Or that Haru was taking us in his truck. Or—"

"One also suggested I rent out a party bus and bring them along," he says, walking me over so that the chauffeur moved to open the doors for us. "None of those seemed enough for such a momentous occasion."

"You mean braving judgmental old hecklers that want to rag on me for my father's rep?"

"No," he says softly, close behind me as I slide into the plush leather seats. Together we take in the purple strobe lights, buckets of champagne, and the partition that made the back even more private. "What I mean is that this is our first date. And I wanted to make it count."

I tear my eyes away from the display as the driver pulls away from the curb, moved by the music that oddly fits the mood pouring out of the speakers. I scoot closer to Yuki so that our legs touched and I look at him, challenging him to show me just how he wanted to spend our first date.

 _He really looked so good tonight._

He rests one arm on the back of my seat, trying to be casual. It works out fine until we go over a speed bump and almost butt heads.

"Sorry," he rushes out, blushing. "I just—"

"—Wanted to get comfortable," I fill in for him, placing my hand on his knee. "And I want you close to me."

His throat rolls with a swallow and I can see he's nervous, but he's also excited.

"If you insist."

My hand travels from his knee to his shiny satin tie, tugging him forward so that our noses touched and I felt every exhale that passed his lips. Breathed in his dash of cologne that smelled like new money, luxury, and masculinity.

"You never did tell me what you thought of my look, tonight."

"You read my mind," he says, tucking my hair behind my ear. "I think you look gorgeous...and kissable..."

"And beautiful?" I breathe, our lips almost meeting.

"You're getting warmer," he teases with a breathy laugh.

"Sexy?" I ask, feeling the words that come next against my mouth.

"Very."

Its then we kiss, neither of us aware of the music or the stars or the sounds of the road. We were just contained and overwhelmed by the sensation of touching lips. Which was a big gesture for us any time it happened.

He tilts his head, hand cupping my cheek to kiss me like a gentleman. But I wanted unbridled passion...not reservations and manners.

I force myself to pull my mouth from his, before tugging my fingers through his purple locks and working at his jawline. Leaving a trail of quick, sloppy kisses in my wake that make his breathing hitch. And further down I go, undoing his tie and freeing his buttons to continue my path from his neck to his collar like we were both hot with fever. But I know I have to stop there.

"Blaze," he practically slurs, tipsy with my short lived ministrations. "Is it okay if I kiss you again?"

I reluctantly drag my lips away from the nape of his neck, looking at him through eyes blurred with the beginnings of want. "Don't make me beg."

He takes this as a yes, this time a lot more assertive as he takes my head in his hands. He crushes his lips against mine and I encourage him to loosen up even further, welcoming him into the heat of my mouth when - in a surprise act - his tongue runs the seam of my lips to be let through. I moan happily, winding my arms around him until my back hits the seats. And something about our position seems to turn him on, because he tugs on my lip in a way so unexpected for him that its outrageously sexy.

"Yuki," I whimper, my head spinning when his hands slide down to my hips and he groans into my mouth. "I love you, so much."

He draws back slightly, panting with exertion. "I theorized you did when you kissed me on that hospital bed."

I purse my lips, still craving the feel of his even though its only been seconds. "I could write an essay on how I know you love me, five paragraphs and double spaced."

He laughs and I have to laugh too at our nerdy talk.

"We've arrived," rasps an old man's voice, and I nearly bash my head against the tub of ice at the chauffeur's interruption. I look out the window to see that lo and behold, we really are at the rec center where the ball is being held.

I hurriedly smooth my hair back in place, and Yuki races at the speed of light to slip his coat back on when the limo driver opens the door, and he steps out first. He extends a hand for me to take before I follow, the door having closed behind us when I notice the hair sticking up on the back of his head.

"Come here," I say in between giggles, patting down his hair the best I can without a brush. "You don't want to walk into a den of hyenas and wildebeests looking like you just made out with someone."

"I did?" His eyes go wide, and for the smallest second I think he's being serious. Until he loses his composure and laughs, offering an arm for me to slip mine through.

"Shall we?"

I pout at his teasing, until the sight of his cockeyed collar and his partially untucked shirt make me giggle all over again.

I finally take his arm, though I can't stop laughing at the remembrance of our touchy-feely session in the car.

"We shall."

...

The live band headlining with retro competes with the din of men, women, and a squadron of teenagers conversing together. I knew that my dad was no longer up for Fireman Of The Year, but I still don't know who in this crowd was the new title holder. We would have to find out as soon as the noise died down.

I lead Yuki along the edges of the room, ducking my head every time I thought I saw someone looking at me, thinking about my dad's heinous decisions. Or the fact that I put him away. It made me seem cold and heartless, and him villainous and hateful. But it was so much more complicated than that.

"Blaze, if you're this uncomfortable, then why be here?" He pulls a chair out at an empty table we find in the far back, and I nearly miss the seat in my anxiousness. "We could have gone to the dance or simply grabbed dinner together."

I shake my head and gesture for him to sit, relaxing a little when he's right beside me untucking his silverware from his napkin. "I just want to keep my head down until the dance portion where it'll be too dark to see. Plus, I've been going to this every year since I was a little girl. I may not have my dad anymore, but breaking tradition bothers me too much to bail."

He gives me a concerned sidelong glance, before flicking his gaze back to his countless spoons and forks. "I suppose I understand that. Even though New Year's was a big deal in our family, its no longer an obligation. But no less of the same importance as it was when we had to attend." He reaches under the table with an open palm, and I take the hint and slip my hand in his, filling the spaces with my fingers.

He frowns, bringing our joined hands above the table into both of his. "Your hands are cold." He breathes warm air onto them, and its enough to make my heart dance with delight at his care for me. His awareness of the details concerning me.

"Thank you, Yuki-bun..."

He doesn't even react to the name. He simply brings his lips to mine in a gentle kiss, which surprises me considering he was so private in showing affection. And when his lips part from mine, it rushes me with longing for them all over again.

"I never mind, Blaze."

Eventually, our conversation lulls to talk of a new sci-fi series about alien warfare when a waitress approaches, bending to set a bowl of green looking soup in front of each of us. She bows. "The beginning of your dining experience." Before I can ask her questions about what the main course would be or when the dancing would start tonight, she glides off to another table to refill their lemonade.

I poke at the sprig of mint in the center, my nose scrunching. "What is this? Split pea? They usually just give us tomato bisque and call it an appetizer. We never do it this fancy..."

Yuki, volunteering to be the brave soul of the two of us, spoons it into his mouth. His expression shifts from determined and brave to appeased and satisfied.

"This is elevated really nicely. Its just the right amount of acid so that its not overburdened, and its light enough that we should have plenty of room for the entree'."

"Yeah, but what is it?" I practically whine, never a fan of going near anything that even remotely resembled a bodily secretion. "It looks like puke."

"Thankfully I don't have a weak stomach," he says, an eyebrow lifting. "Its just soup, Blaze. I imagine it consists of spinach, lemon, and a hint of onion."

"Oh..." I pick my spoon back up, shoving it into the mystery puddle. "That doesn't seem so bad. If Popeye can eat it, then so can I."

Yuki snorts, but he covers it with a cough. Pretending to stifle it with the crook of his elbow. "That's one way to think about it."

I stick my tongue out. "You bet your cousin's hoopty it is!" I shove it into my mouth and blanch at its foreign flavors, wanting desperately to spit it out into a sink. Elevated nicely my eye. Instead, I settle for draining my chilled glass of Dr Pepper to wash away its taste, painfully reminded of the sandwiches we had on the houseboat.

"Ugh!" I bring the glass back down hard against the table, still somehow left with the aftertaste. "That tasted like stale horse radish dipped in tartar sauce poured into a dirty sock in the Summer."

He laughs to himself at the new heights my voice was reaching, and I narrow my eyes at him. "You think you're being cute?"

He shakes his head rapidly. "No Miss Tatsuyo. I'm simply laughing at how silly this all is."

I fix my mouth to start in on him, only to be interrupted by our bowls being swapped out for the first meal. Turkey breast drizzled in gravy, a side of mashed potatoes, and a helping of string beans.

Now _this_ is the kind of food I know this ball for.

"This looks store-bought," Yuki remarks, prodding the mound of mashed potatoes with his fork.

"Oh please," I drawl, practically doing a little dance at the familiar buttery taste of the potatoes. "Don't even pretend that you're some kind of patisserie and gourmet snob. You have no problem making late night trips with me to the convenience store for frosted cookies."

"That's different," he refutes, still refusing to touch the second dish. "Its non-negotiable how tasteful those are. Especially the lemon ones."

"I forgot about you and your citrus craze." I elbow him in the side, trying not to let my donkey laugh loose. "I'm more partial to the pumpkin. But you do you boo..."

"What is a 'boo' anyway? Isn't that a ghost in Mario?"

I full out snort, almost choking on my food. "Oh my gosh, Yuki."

"What? I think its a valid question," he says, his eyes wide and ever so innocent.

"You just..." I pat his arm, going back to eating. "You just finish what's on your plate and I'll forget all about it."

...

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention. We would like to begin the toasts."

We both look up at a middle aged woman clinking the side of her flute glass with a sterling silver butter knife. The smile lines on her face creasing as she searches the audience.

"Thank you. We will begin by toasting the Fireman Of The Year, bring our ceremonial flames to the front to create the Fireman's Flame, and then...we get our party on! _Woo!_ We'll party like its 1979."

Dang. Just how old was this woman?

The audience hoops and hollers its appraisal for this plan until the older woman starts again.

"As you all know, we originally had another man in mind for this honor. Unfortunately, we he had to recant this acclaim and rescind his awards. However, the runner up is here tonight and he has served the community as if his own life depended on it. He looked after people in and out of the line of duty, and always checked in on his fellow neighbors to ensure their safety and well-being rose above his. It is my honor and absolute joy to say, please give a round of applause for Sota Hashia. Our Fireman Of The Year!"

There was scattered applause, like people were uncertain if they should or shouldn't be clapping. But they were right not to. That was a low blow. And I felt in my gut (unless that was just the food sitting there like a pile of boulders) as the rest of the crowd around us eventually rose to their feet. I was far from interested in celebrating, and had half a mind to bow out early like Yuki had suggested.

But what happens next makes me wonder if I was dreaming and the nightmare had just turned for the better.

"You all should be ashamed of yourselves," Yuki chastises, having stood and projected his voice to the entire room. And that's all it takes for the noise to die down and for every eye in the place to be trained on us.

"That was wrong and you should apologize. It was highly unnecessary and inappropriate for you to so much as allude to Miss Tatsuyo's father when mentioning the man of honor. All that needed to be said was what solely centered on Mr Hashia. Not only were you ruthlessly perpetuating the pain of others, but you were dulling the shine of his moment. Anything beyond mention of his own accomplishments its petty, insolent, and inhumane."

This draws a gasp from those around us, conversation rapidly picking up in confused and agreeing hums.

"Now wait just a minute," the woman stutters, her hands up in defense. "I meant no harm, truly. I like to think I'm good people. I wasn't intending to hurt anyone or drag anyone's name. Besides, I wasn't even made aware that his daughter was present."

"That is irrelevant," Yuki bites out, angriest I've seen him. "Would you have not said it had you known she was? And even if she weren't here, would you be comfortable talking negatively about her and her family behind their backs?" He takes my hand, pulling me along behind him towards the doors. "Its disappointing to be that in this room we're surrounded by people, but there's not a single human in sight."

...

We end up outside in the brisk air, a light snow falling and landing on our eyelashes as he leads me to a pavilion that hosts marble benches donated and dedicated to police offers that had lost their lives. It was beautiful out here, and I hoped that I'd get a chance to read the inscriptions on the benches someday. In each and every one of them was someone's past, their loved one's fractured present, and the potential of a healed future.

I take my seat on the center of a bench hidden behind the fountain, but not so close that our voices would be drowned out by its roaring torrent. He tucks his hands in his pockets and paces restlessly, and it breaks my heart to see him so worked up on my behalf.

"Yuki," I call, finally grabbing his attention. "Here." I pat the bench in expectancy. And its several seconds before I'm rewarded with him pressing himself close to me. His hands clasped in front of him as he stared out at the fountain drowning in a thought just as deep.

"What you said in there...that took so much courage," I say, my voice catching. "My mother has been so distant with me since everything went down days ago, but you reminded me that not everyone is like that with me. And you sticking up for me wasn't what I expected, but I'm so thankful that you did that. I just...thank you."

He sits up to look at me, shaking his head. "Blaze, defending you is what makes sense. But the thing that surprises me is, it doesn't just make sense to my heart...my brain grasps it with just as much rationality." He grabs one of my hands, stroking my knuckles. "The way I feel about you helps me feel like everything will be okay...the way I feel excites me, terrifies me, relaxes me, and teaches me all at the same time."

I smile, letting my forehead rest against his. "The way I feel about you is less thinking and more feeling." I laugh a little to myself. "Touching or otherwise."

He clears his throat, his gaze softening and growing more intense at once. "About that...I wish I hadn't had to say anything before we got to dance. I was looking forward to it. And I wanted to give you that tradition back."

The fact that he wanted that for me was amazing. But he wouldn't have just been a part of it, he would have improved it tenfold.

I simply shrug, taking his tie in my hands to undo its knot, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. "Eh, they usually just play stuff from back in the 70s. I have a better idea."

"Which is?" He asks distractedly, his heart speeding up every time my fingertips come in contact with his skin with each button that comes loose.

"How about I break out my phone and play some music we can dance to?" I take a quick scan of the premises, noting that we're still alone. We were alone, but we weren't lonely together anymore. Together we made up for each other's lonely.

"It sounds way better than dancing in front of those people to disco."

"Yes," he says, standing and helping me up. Allowing me a moment to queue up a handful of slow and fast songs, turning the volume all the way up. As I press play, my heart starts to beat wildly in my chest, thrashing like a gorilla in a cage.

"May I have this dance?" I offer, holding out my hand.

He laughs, though he accepts anyway. "I thought I'm supposed to be the one asking."

I scoff. "If women can propose to men, then we should be allowed to ask a man to dance." He puts his hands on my waist, keeping a polite gap of space between us until I throw my arms around his neck and pull his body flush against mine. If we were going to do this, we would do it right. And if I'm honest, the way he took up for me made me hot.

"Blaze," he says, his cheeks flush with surprise as he searches for a soul that might have snuck out here and was watching us dancing body to body.

"What?" I purr, clasping my hands behind his neck as I admire the way the moonlight hits his pretty eyes tonight. "I don't mind. Besides, once you practically feel each other up in the back of a limo. There's really no going back..."

His blush deepens, so he attempts to hide it in the plane of my shoulder. Despite the fact he was taller. I simply smile and close my eyes, our bodies swaying to the instruments of the song. It isn't perfect. He steps on my toes a few times, I occasionally move my hand somewhere that makes him flinch in pain and I make a mental note to be more careful. He was still in recovery so he danced a little slower than a slow dance normally demanded. And even though its nothing like I pictured how the ball would turn out...its actually better.

I would treasure this moment of this night for the rest of my life. Not just because my sister and I worked together for once instead of against. Not just because Yuki made our first date intimate and special for the two of us, despite all the people that were around us.

But because he held me as if I never saddled him with heavy truths and traumatic investigations. He looked at me like I wasn't the daughter of a firefighter gone rogue, but Blaze.

And only Blaze.

I will always love him for that. But I will also always love him for the way he loves me.

...

Epilogue

I curl up on my window seat, staring out at the empty street as rain fell against the window like hammers. I pull the sleeves of Yuki's sweatshirt down over my hands and tuck my entire body under it.

Things were so much quieter since dad's arrest and graduation. My mom still found it hard to speak to me as she was upset that he wouldn't be able to be there for her anymore. And part of her blamed me. The other half blamed herself. Then she felt too guilty for how she felt to talk. She barely hugged me after my Valedictorian speech. Even though I included my thanks to her in it.

 _Good morning class of 2018._

 _I know that its expected of me to speak on academics and accomplishments and bright futures. But to me, that's overdone. And its not where my heart is._

 _These last few months have been tough on me and my family. In all my years of studying and taking college courses to get ahead, nothing prepared me for the brunt of pain and pressure of my senior year. I learned that while school does teach us valuable things, life outside these walls are what truly prepare us for what we face. Maybe then, the pomp and circumstance will be because we've suffered scrapes and bruises and breaks but came out of it with valor and prestige._

 _I can say, with confidence, that life outside the here and now has taught me five lessons._

 _Lesson #1 Stand by your integrity. Truth makes you strong, but it also makes you free. Without integrity and honesty, you won't be able to discern the difference between passivity and deception. Without that tool, life would remain a slippery handhold, until you learn to reach for the truth instead of what makes you comfortable._

 _Lesson #2 Always research, process, and attempt to understand before you come to a conclusion. Without all the pieces, the picture can seem upside down and we make false assumptions about what its supposed to look like. Is it blue sky or an ocean? Is it the hand of a hero or that of a villain? Is it motivated by hatred, rage, and selfishness? Or is it driven by hurt, vulnerability, and fear? Look at it from all sides. Never assume._

 _Lesson #3 Love your family even if you don't think thy deserve it. Love isn't just a feeling all on its own. Instead, it branches off into a feeling that the choice to love creates. Love is a decision, which is why we can choose to love someone that's inflicted so much pain. Its why we can forgive them even though it looks like we're letting them win...walk all over us. No, instead we're standing up to any damage done. We're taking the power back that was stolen from us. But don't think for a second that you can love on your own. Love was never meant to be done solo._

 _Lesson #4 Breaking someone's heart breaks theirs. If you truly believe that you can shatter someone without backlash, you're lying to yourself. You can never - as a healthy, sane individual - be okay ruining someone else without it taking its toll on you._

 _Lesson #5 Learn to forgive yourself. We all fall short. We all fail and fall and make mistakes. But our failures are not our identity. Abandon the all or nothing mentalities that say you have to do it all right or you've accomplished nothing at all. Stop making yourself the center of your life as if the entire world depends on your morality, your perfections, and your successes. Its another form of pride, which slowly rots away in the body until it decays and poisons your heart and wrecks your soul. See it for what it is and seize it before it can become you._

 _The bottom line is that I want you all to look beyond the last twelve years, and look to the future instead. I'm not saying to diminish what you have achieved, nor am I encouraging you to not enjoy the present...but never live only moment to moment. Never just live as if you're only hanging on for the next thing and the next thing and the next thing. Because if that is you, you will never be satisfied. All you will have is hands out for more, with no time or energy to hold onto what you already keep._

 _So...I would like to thank my mom for teaching me that lesson at a very early age. She showed me that I needed to thank GOD for every thing I was given. Every test I passed. Every time I beat a game or even went up a level. She taught me gratitude and I will always be thankful for that. I would also like to thank my sister, Ember for supporting me through this difficult time of my life. She's my personal cheerleader, my twin, and my nemesis all in one. I will always love for her, even though she can drive me up the wall. And I've imagined donating her to charity more than once...I still care about her. And I know she cares about me._

 _Lastly, though...I'd like to thank Yuki._

 _I may never tell him this, but he is my motivation in everything. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here giving you this speech. And its not just because he inspired me to fight as hard as I did for this position as your valedictorian. But its also because he fought hard for me to be alive even though it could have meant him sacrificing his own life. So yes, it is an honor to be the top of my class. But to me...its far more reputable that he put me before himself. He guarded me and stood beside me when no one else did. His life wholly exemplifies what it means to be a hero. And I believe it is his heart that can teach us the most valuable lessons of all._

My sister was at her boyfriend's more than she was home, so we only communicated through texts and the occasional complaints of hogging the bathroom or not knocking when the other is changing. Today was filled with birthday cake and present emojis, until it turned into a war between us wishing the other a happy 18th birthday. Outside of that, she was practically nonexistent.

Thankfully, no one died in the third clinic going up in smoke. But it was structurally unsound, and it was decided that it wasn't worth saving because there were new buildings that could be used. For the right reasons. Akito, on the other hand, was charged on counts of murder in the second degree, obstruction of justice, and arson. For all of that on top of what the police were still dredging up from his ledgers and partners, the court threw the book at him. He would be serving life in prison.

And since the deal was off and I had been waitlisted to the only school I managed to apply to last minute, there was not much here for me except my part time jobs as a math/chess tutor and working in the electronic department store off the highway.

Things were pretty much a let down after our big bust. The only highlight of it all was Yuki.

"Blaze," I hear, sounding very much like his voice. I close my eyes and wish it really were him. "Blaze," it says again.

Why was my brain playing tricks on me? The silence was cruel, but thinking I'm hearing my boyfriend's voice is—

"Blaze," he calls, bringing his hands down on my shoulders and making my eyes fly open. "Why did you ignore me?"

I scoff at myself for how ridiculous I was being. Of course it was him. I hadn't gone that crazy...had I?

I place my hands on his shoulders, too. "Because I...oh never mind. What's up?"

He takes a seat in front of me, reaching into his leather satchel for two blue booklets that encase airplane tickets. "These are for us. Happy Birthday, Blaze."

"W-what?" I sit up, taking it from him as he moves my legs to his lap. "Yuki...these are first class tickets to London! And..." I open it up to see more tickets fall out. "To Kenya and France and China...Germany!" I shake my head, at a loss for words. "I don't know what to say to this."

He smiles, his thumb stroking my knee as heat floods his cheeks. "You said you wanted to see the world and you had no way of making it happen. Well, I decided that I wanted to do that for you. And because I wanted to go with you, I got us first class tickets so we can travel all Summer to starter locations before you go to school for Marine Biology. In addition, it allows me time to expand my horizons so that I can make a decision of what my career path will be."

I bring the booklet protectively to my chest, so overwhelmed by this lovely, thoughtful, expensive gift. "Yuki, this is above and beyond what I deserve. Especially when I couldn't even get into a school, anyway. And I have no clue how I'll be able to do welding or oceanography any time soon."

"Blaze." He slips his hand into one of mine, leaning into me. "This is something that's meant for you. We can get away and explore and live out life exotically for a while. And then, maybe next year...you can get into the school of your choice. And we can move somewhere together for you to take up welding and invest. I have no ties here that mean more to me than you." He pecks me on the forehead, smiling. "My dream is that your dreams happen."

I don't like to cry. I don't _ever_ like to cry...so what was this blurring my eyes and pouring down my cheeks? I don't know. Maybe its a side effect of Yuki's love for me. And because I had never felt it like I do now, maybe that's why I'm experiencing something like tears. Maybe it was just the joy and my heart needing somewhere it could go before my heart burst.

"Oh, and one more thing..." he trails off with an easy smile on his lips. "Tonight before we start packing for our first flight, I was thinking you might like to go out to dinner with me."

I cant my head to the side, still sniffling. "That's fine. I just thought you were building up to something else out of the ordinary."

He simply lifts his shoulders, slowly letting them back down. "Its just that I know how much you love the ocean, so I felt it apropos to select a restaurant on a glass bottom boat. But before that, to prevent stomach cramps...it would be best to stop by to experience the sea creatures up close, first."

"What? You mean like an aquarium?"

"No." His smile grows brighter, reaching his eyes like he was coming alive right before me. "I think its better to swim with the fishes, not just look at them."

I suck in a hard breath. "GET OUT! Yuki! You didn't!"

"I did," he reports, satisfied. "We - yes, even I - will be swimming with the dolphins and going snorkeling before dinner. If you'd like that..."

I throw my arms around his neck and I break down into sobs when he hugs me back. No one has ever given me something I've loved so much except the one person I love more than anyone.

It was right then I knew in my heart, that really was my hero.

He didn't have to rappel off of buildings or rescue a child from a fire. He didn't have to perform CPR or save someone with surgery. He was a hero because of how much he cared for me. Because it was in that love, that I am safe...

But also free.

"I'd love that. And I love you, Yuki-bun."

He laughs, and my heart is full. "I love you even more, Blaze."

 **The End.**


End file.
